Lightning tore across the sky, briefly illuminating the gloomy scene below. Sovereign City Harbor was home to more derelict vessels than the average man could count and a pitiful stretch of shoreline did little to improve the look of the place. It was covered with washed-up debris, the dried bones of fish and several dozen broken bottles.

A well-built man lay facedown on the shore, his face turned to the side. A long streak of blood ran from his temple down his cheek and his eyes twitched continuously beneath their lids. He wore black trousers, a ripped white shirt and black loafers. His hair was more gray than brown, making him look older than he was, though a close examination of his features revealed that he was in his late twenties.

Again lightning brightened the beach and a loud crash of thunder seemed to permeate the haze surrounding the man�s brain. His eyes opened and he slowly pushed himself to his knees, looking slowly around himself. His breathing was measured and regular, though his jaw was clenched as if he felt some inner pain. With a grunt, he rose to his feet and staggered toward the city, one hand pressed tightly against his side. At least one rib, possibly two, had been broken, though he couldn�t remember how it had happened. In fact, he couldn�t remember anything at all � he didn�t know his own name or how he came to be here. He cast one quick glance back at the choppy waters but saw no nearby boats or ships from which he could have come. The vessels moored in the harbor were surely too far away, he mused.

Another rumble of thunder seemed to rock the ground upon which he walked. He momentarily lost his footing and slipped back to the moist earth. His fingers closed tightly around something as he sought to catch himself, something cold and metallic buried in the dirt. He brought it close to his face, peering through the darkness at it. A rain began to fall then, large drops that cooled his burning flesh.

He was holding a small medallion. A notch on the top indicated that it normally had a cord of some kind that ran through it, allowing its owner to wear it. It depicted a nude human man with an erect penis, bearing a sword in his right hand. His head was that of a roaring lion. On the back of the medallion were two words, a name that had been scratched into the surface with some sharp object: Lazarus Gray.

"You okay, pal?"

A policeman was approaching, pointing a flashlight directly at him. "I think so," he answered hoarsely.

"Looks like you took a spill."

"I hit my head while swimming to shore." He wasn�t sure why he was lying, why he wasn�t telling the policeman that he didn�t know who he was or how he�d gotten there� but the lies came easily enough.

The policeman stopped a few feet away him, trailing the flashlight up and down the man�s body. "I don�t think so, pal."

"What makes you say that?"

"Your clothes ain�t wet."

He looked down, cursing himself for not having noticed something so obvious. He slipped the medallion into his pocket and forced a smile. "Would you believe I�ve been on the beach long enough to have dried out?"

"How about you tell me your name?"

After pausing for a brief second, he uttered another lie and by doing so he unknowingly set himself down a dangerous path. "My name�s Lazarus Gray."

The officer�s eyes narrowed and he quickly threw a punch at the man who was now calling himself Lazarus. To his own surprise, Lazarus moved aside with practiced ease and threw up his hand to catch the policeman under the chin with a karate chop. He then gripped the man by the shoulder and pulled him close, driving a knee into the officer�s stomach. He finished him off with a backhand that sent one of the man�s teeth flying from his mouth.

Lazarus stood over the fallen man and realized that he wasn�t panting at all. He had reacted automatically, fluidly calling upon skills he hadn�t even known he�d possessed. He knelt down and searched the officer�s pockets, finding a black leather wallet that contained three dollars in cash, a driver�s license in the name of Arthur Redwood and a small photograph of a handsome man with gray-tinged hair, dressed in a tuxedo. Lazarus knew that this was a photo of himself, even though he couldn�t recall ever having seen his own face. He pocketed the photograph and stood up, having come to the conclusion that this man was not a police officer at all. Up close, his badge looked fake and there was nothing in his wallet to verify his position with law enforcement. Though he couldn�t recall how he would have known this, Lazarus also recognized that the gun in the man�s holster was not regulation issue.

Lazarus looked back toward the city and made his decision. He had to get away from here. Answers would come later but for now he had to keep moving. This man had intended to harm him, possibly even kill him. He couldn�t take the chance that this man was operating on his own: in fact, something told him that wasn�t the case at all. Lazarus stripped the man of his weapon, pushing the barrel of the gun into the front of his slacks. He pulled the tails of his button-down shirt out of his pants and let them hang, obscuring anyone�s view of the gun.

Moving with the grace of a jungle cat, Lazarus Gray began to move through the shadows, heading into the bright lights and squalid streets of Sovereign City.

Robeson Avenue had become one of the more famous streets in Sovereign City. The transformation from an unassuming, mostly abandoned locale to one where gossip columnists routinely camped out was the direct result of Lazarus Gray choosing it for his home base. In the months since he had awoken on the beach, he had slowly built a reputation as a man with skills that could prove useful to those in need. He had parlayed incredible knowledge about the workings of the stock market, taking the small amounts of money he earned and transforming it into enough capital to open his own business. Dubbed Assistance Unlimited, this business existed for the sole purpose of helping those in need. Gray charged nothing up front for his services, preferring to be paid when the job was complete. He asked only what the client could afford and not a penny more. With the city reeling under the twin terrors of a stagnant economy and rampant corruption, the papers had seized upon Lazarus Gray as a figure of great interest and one capable of inspiring hope.

Gray had purchased all three of the buildings that lay on Robeson Avenue. The heart of his complex was a three-story structure that had once been a hotel. Gray�s three associates used the first floor, while the second had been gutted and converted into one large room that was used for meetings, briefings and research. The third floor was off-limits to everyone but Gray himself and was his private domicile.

Across the street were several storefronts, all of which had closed down at the dawn of the Great Depression. Lazarus had purchased these, ensuring that no one would operate any businesses next to his own set of offices. He had continued to use the name Lazarus Gray for two reasons: the first was that he had no other name to use and the second was that he hoped it would draw out those who might know the truth about him. So far, it had failed to accomplish the latter.

Lazarus Gray had found a measure of peace in helping others, even though his own past was lost to him. Though he was notoriously tight-lipped and rarely showed strong emotion, his aides had come to love him. All of them had come into his employ after themselves being helped by Gray.

Morgan Watts was forty-two years old and pencil-thin. He favored black suits and fedora hats and not even his closest friends had ever seen him without a necktie. He kept his dark hair slicked back and his moustache waxed. Morgan was Gray�s liaison with the underworld for he himself had once been a part of the city�s mafia. Though he was nominally a free man now, the tentacles of organized crime ran deep and a part of him would always be loyal to his old �Family.� Those ties paled beside only one thing: his allegiance to Lazarus Gray, who had helped him out of a tight jam that could have cost him his life.

Samantha Grace was the only female in Gray�s employ. A stunning blonde whose parents were wealthy philanthropists, Samantha had grown up with every opportunity possible. She could speak five languages fluently, was a champion swimmer and was a veritable encyclopedia on topics as varied as fashion, European history and the socio-political climate of the Orient. Samantha had come into Gray�s employ after her father had fallen prey to a blackmail scheme. Lazarus had managed to apprehend the criminal behind the plot, managing to destroy the photographs that could have compromised her family�s good name. Admiration for the work that Lazarus performed had led the twenty-year-old into seeking a position with Assistance Unlimited.

The final member of Assistance Unlimited was a Korean named Eun Jiwon. After moving to America with his parents over a decade before, Eun had found his family�s fortunes in disarray. His father had opened a small grocery store but when local crooks began to demand protection money, Eun started a covert series of attacks on the criminals. He had been mildly successful for a time, vandalizing their operations and becoming a general nuisance, before they�d finally figured out who was behind it all. Eun�s family store had been burned to the ground and his parents murdered. The young man would have thrown away his own life in a vain attempt at revenge had Lazarus Gray not intervened, helping him channel his aggression into a healthier direction. Eun was in his mid-twenties and extremely handsome, though his angry demeanor kept almost everyone at arm�s length from him.

As intriguing as those three were, the real attraction at Assistance Unlimited was Lazarus Gray himself. Dressed in gray slacks and a matching shirt that was somewhat reminiscent of a hospital orderly�s uniform, the strangely detached man kept a close eye on everything that went on in the city. Those in authority at City Hall alternately feared or welcomed him, depending on how corrupt they had become.

Lazarus was standing in front of the window, scanning the articles on the front page of The Sovereign Gazette. He was in the expansive room that spanned the entire second floor of his headquarters and the sun that shone in through the glass left a tiny rainbow across his cheek. It was just a few minutes past nine in the morning and it was expected to be another wet day in the city. It had rained off and on for nearly six days in a row and the weathermen were predicting a lot more of the wet stuff before the city could dry itself off.

Lazarus was reading about a series of brutal slayings that took place in the downtown area, several of which had been attributed to men working in the service to The Monster. The so-called Monster was someone that had yet to cross paths with Lazarus but from all that he�d heard, The Monster was an increasingly powerful figure in the Sovereign underworld.

"Good morning, Samantha. Is there trouble?" Lazarus said these things without looking up from his paper and he stopped the pretty young Miss Grace in her tracks.

Regaining her composure, Samantha smoothed out her skirt and stepped up close to her employer. "It always throws me for a loop how you do that. I was trying to be quiet that time."

"You would have successfully snuck up on almost anyone on earth," Lazarus said, folding up the newspaper and tossing it onto a nearby tabletop.

"But not you."

A faint ghost of a smile appeared on Gray�s lips but it vanished so quickly that Samantha wasn�t sure it had really been there at all. "You were coming to tell me about the gentleman in the rain slicker."

Samantha crossed her arms and tilted her head slightly. "How in the world did you know that?"

"The window. I was standing in front of it and saw a man approaching our building before I started reading the paper. He looked appropriately dressed for the weather."

"His name is Peter Scanlon and he says it�s urgent. Something about a missing girl."

"Has he tried the police?"

"Yes. But they think he should be sent to the loony bin, apparently."

"And why is that?"

"The girl he�s looking for � she has glowing eyes."

Peter Scanlon was on the first floor, in a small room set aside for potential clients. Its walls were painted a soothing shade of blue and a fresh arrangement of flowers was in a vase by the door. Morgan Watts was keeping Scanlon company, leaning against one of the walls and watching the little man fidget nervously. Scanlon had refused to give up his rain slicker upon entering, preferring to keep it on. He was slightly paunchy in the way that middle-aged men tend to get and his head was covered by a few thin wisps of hair, combed over in a vain attempt at maintaining the semblance of youth. He wore thick glasses and was constantly pushing them up the bridge of his nose.

"Sure you don�t want some coffee, buddy?"

Scanlon frowned and shook his head. "I told you I didn�t. Why do you keep asking me that?"

"You�re acting more nervous than a bride on her wedding night. If the coffee won�t settle you, I have some stronger stuff in the back."

Scanlon seemed to be considering the offer when the door opened and Gray stepped in. Samantha was right behind him and she glanced quickly at Morgan, shaking her head. Morgan smirked, knowing what it meant: she�d bet him three dollars that she�d be able to sneak up on Gray this time.

Gray pulled up a chair and sat down across from Scanlon, ignoring the slightly fearful look that he received. Gray�s eyes were mismatched: one was emerald green, the other dusky brown. They seemed to burn with some sort of awful inner fire, as if there was a bottomless well of fury lurking within his placid expression. "Tell me why you�re here, Mr. Scanlon."

"Didn�t the girl tell you?"

"Miss Grace told me some of it but I�d like to hear it from you, in your own words."

"I have money," Scanlon began but he stopped when Gray�s eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

"We can discuss my fee at a later time. Right now, I�m concerned only with the reasons behind your visit."

Scanlon nodded, looking away. Without having the full force of Gray�s stare on him, he seemed to relax. After taking a deep breath, he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and began speaking in low and somewhat embarrassed tones. "I don�t have a particularly glamorous life, Mr. Gray. Nothing like yours, to be sure. I repair typewriters for a living. I work for a Mr. Steinberg, down on 42nd street. He�s a good man and he pays well for the work. I like it but it�s awful lonely sometimes. It�s just me at home, you see. I�ve never married and haven�t really come very close." Scanlon looked up quickly and his cheeks reddened when he realized that Samantha was still in the room. She gave him a reassuring smile that seemed to say that she wasn�t judging him, nor did she pity his state. "A week ago I stopped by O�Malley�s Pub for a drink after work. It was a Tuesday night and the place was mostly empty, except for a few regulars."

"Are you a regular, Mr. Scanlon?" Morgan asked, taking a pipe out from the inside of his jacket. He lit it with a match and had just begun puffing away when Scanlon answered in the affirmative.

"I don�t go every night but often enough, I suppose. Well, there was one person there who most definitely wasn�t a regular. It was a girl, about twenty-five I�d say and so lovely that my heart broke just looking at her. She was wearing a white dress that ended just above her knees, white high-heeled pumps and she had a flower in her raven-black hair." Scanlon�s voice had acquired a dreamy air to it and Morgan was barely able to stifle a snort. Samantha motioned for him to stop, but it was obvious that she was amused as well. "Anyway, I took my usual seat and didn�t approach her. She was out of my league and I knew it. So you can imagine my surprise when I heard her angel�s voice from next to my shoulder, asking if she could sit with me. I stammered a yes and tried not to look too eager. She sat down next to me and I could smell her perfume. It was like fresh rose petals."

Morgan cleared his throat. "I think I can sense where this might be going. This dame of yours� was she a working girl?"

Scanlon�s mouth fell open and he looked like he might rise up and walk out. "Heavens no! Where on Earth did you get that idea? She wasn�t like that. Not at all, sir!"

"Please continue." Gray spoke softly but the tone was so commanding that Scanlon at once gave a nod and resumed his story.

"I could tell right away that she was sad about something. She looked like she�d been crying. I tried to make small talk with her but she was obviously too upset. She said she just wanted to be near me, that I made her feel safe. I bought her a couple of drinks but she barely touched either one. When I realized it was getting late, I told her I had to go and she asked me if I�d walk with her to get a cab."

"And she never told you her name?" Samantha asked.

"No. I didn�t ask, though. I didn�t even realize I hadn�t until� well, later." Scanlon cleared his throat and brushed his glasses back up over the bridge of his nose. "It was raining outside so I took off my jacket and held it over her head. She said it was gallant of me and I felt her touch my chest, kind of pulling me to her. I was just a little taller than her and so I was looking down at her. It was obvious she wanted me to kiss her. I was going to do it, too, but that�s when I saw her eyes." He reached out suddenly and gripped Lazarus by the sleeve. "They were glowing. It was kind of an ice blue color and her pupils seemed to vanish as I was looking at them. Her eyes were just empty, with that strange glow. It was the most beautiful and terrifying thing I�ve ever seen in my life. Is that possible? To be attracted and repulsed by something simultaneously?"

"I see it all the time," Morgan whispered.

"Yeah. In the mirror every morning." Samantha winked as she said the words, continuing the teasing that was part and parcel of their friendship.

Scanlon licked his lips. "I�ll take that drink now, if you don�t mind. Water will do."

Morgan sprang into action, leaving the room and returning a moment later with a glass full of tap water. "There you go," he said with a grin.

Scanlon downed the drink in two quick sips. He waved away Morgan when the thin man reached for the glass to offer a refill. "I was going to kiss her anyway. Even with the glowing eyes. I mean, I know it sounds awful, but the chance to hold a girl like that overwhelmed any fears I had about her eyes."

"And what happened?" Gray prompted.

"I don�t know. I blacked out or something. The next thing I knew, I was lying on my back, with a tingling in my forehead. Two men in suits were dragging the girl away from me. They were shoving her into the backseat of a sedan. A third man was behind the wheel. She was screaming for me to help her but I couldn�t think straight. By the time I was on my feet, they were gone, the car turning the corner at the end of the street."

Morgan looked at Gray. "One of those boys must have clocked him from behind. That�s why he can�t remember anything. And his head was buzzing from a concussion."

Lazarus stroked his chin but said nothing.

Scanlon rapped his knuckles on the table. "I do remember something else, though. I memorized the license plate number of that car. It was 30-T46."

"That could prove most useful," Gray said. He didn�t bother writing the number down and his aides weren�t surprised. His mind was like a steel trap, capable of storing even the most trivial of data. "Did you receive medical treatment after this event?"

"I did. The docs at the hospital said I was fine. No trace of a concussion," he added, looking directly at Morgan. "But they did say something really strange. They said I was in a dangerous state of dehydration. I think they thought I was nuts when I told them that was impossible. Of course, the looks I got from the cops were even worse. I told them everything, thinking some of it might be important, but as soon I got to those phantom eyes of hers, they tuned me out."

"Phantom eyes," Gray repeated. "An interesting turn of phrase." He stood up and made for the door, speaking over his shoulder. "I�ll look into this. Please leave your address and a phone number where you can be reached with my associates."

Scanlon rose, looking surprised but pleased. "I really hope he can find her," he said to Samantha. "She was so pretty and she said I made her feel safe. I can�t stop feeling guilty over letting those brutes take her away."

Samantha took him by the elbow. "If there�s anyone in Sovereign City who can find her, it�s Mr. Gray. You can count on that."

Morgan watched the pretty young girl lead the man from the room, soothing him with her confidence. He was glad she felt so positive about this one because he was anything but. The whole story sounded crazy, from the part where a pretty girl would put the moves on a guy like Scanlon to the part where her eyes turned into glowing spotlights. Still, if the boss thought there was something to it, Morgan would jump in with both feet. Lazarus Gray had earned that level of trust and then some.

The leader of Assistance Unlimited rode the elevator to the third floor. Only one lift in the entire building had access to his private quarters and that one required a key to operate. Once he was alone in his quarters, Gray stepped into his bathroom and stared at himself in the mirror. As always, the face that stared back at him was virtually a stranger�s. He recognized the contours of the features from having lived with him the past eighteen months but he still lacked a connection to them. It was like he was living in someone else�s body.

Phantom eyes, Scanlon had said. Something about those words seemed to trigger a residual memory in Gray, sparking things that he had forgotten until this day. They were images from another life, from before he�d woken on the beach.

He was in a temple in Tibet, hiding in the shadows. A nude young girl was bound to an altar, her screams stifled by a strip of cloth jammed into her mouth. Standing in a semicircle around her were six men, dressed in dark robes. One of them wore a ram�s skull over his head, its horns curling to the sky. Two burning braziers were the only illumination in the room and the light danced off the curved blade the man in the horned helm held over the girl. The blade was raised and in that moment, Lazarus thought that the man�s eyes had taken on a strange cast, as if they were glowing from within. It was like some dread phantasm had entered the man�s body and the only sign of it was through those eyes, the portals to his soul.

Why had he been there? Was he taking part in this awful ceremony? Or was he there to stop it? He didn�t remember what became of the girl but he felt certain she was dead now.

Lazarus shook away the memory, suddenly feeling damp with sweat. "Who am I?" he asked aloud.

As always, there was no answer.

"I�ll be damned if I know why a man like Gray would hire a chink."

"Keep your voice down. He might hear you."

Eun Jiwon maintained a forced look of placidity but he was quite aware of every word that was being said. The two female file clerks were in an adjoining room, looking up the information he�d requested. He was dressed smartly in a dark suit, white shirt and tie. With some people, it helped to appear as Western as possible. For others, though, it only accentuated the fact that he was a foreigner.

The woman who had called him by the racial slur returned with a slip of paper in her hand. She gazed at him from over her horn-rimmed glasses and the set of her lips made it appear she had just taken a bite of a sour apple. "I was able to find out who that license plate belongs to," she began. "But I�m afraid I�m going to have to ask for verification that you�re getting this for Mr. Gray. We don�t give this sort of thing out to just anyone."

Eun�s eyes must have betrayed his irritation because the woman drew back slightly. "I gave you the signed request from Lazarus. If that�s not good enough for you, perhaps you should pick up the phone and call him? I�m sure he�s not doing anything more important right now than talking to a filing clerk."

The stinging rebuke had the intended effect and the woman simply shoved the paper at Eun, quickly turning away with a harrumph. Eun looked at the words printed on the sheet, identifying the owner of the car as a Jonathan Nero. He tapped the name quickly. "Are you sure about this?"

The woman looked back at him, disdain pouring from her. "Quite. I may only be a filing clerk, but I know how to look things up. Or do you need me to read it for you? I know some of you boys have trouble with English."

Eun bit back the reply that threatened to erupt from him. He could speak and write fluently, almost undoubtedly much more impressively than this woman. But he knew that Mr. Gray would be upset with him if he made a scene. He simply wrote down all the information that was on the paper and left the original on the counter. He hurried from city hall, offering a few brief nods of his head to the people he recognized in passing. Working for Lazarus Gray meant that Eun often came into contact with the people of power in Sovereign City. This was both good and bad. For every one honest cop or upstanding city councilman, there were three more that were crooked.

Eun walked to a black roadster parked outside and slid easily into the passenger side seat. Gray was behind the wheel, looking as still and quiet as a statue. "The car belongs to Jonathan Nero."

If Eun had been expecting his employer to show surprise, he was disappointed. Gray simply nodded, his eyes narrowing only slightly. Nero was a very wealthy man, owning a large number of tenement buildings in the city. By all rights, he should have had most of his real estate condemned. But being one of the chief contributors to the mayor�s coffers never hurt.

"We should go and talk to him," Gray said, shifting the car into drive. He pulled out onto the streets and began directing his vehicle smoothly through the traffic. It was midday, just a few hours since Scanlon had visited Assistance Unlimited. The streets were glistening with wetness, evidence of a shower that had just passed through. Thick clouds of pollution hung over the city, combining with the rain to evoke memories of London in Gray�s mind. He didn�t recall when he�d visited the city but he was certain that he had. A vague ache in his heart made him think that he had lost someone there.

"Chief?"

Gray realized that Eun had been waiting for him to respond to something. "Sorry. My mind was wandering."

"Thinking about the case?"

"Yes," Gray said, thinking once again how easily lies sometimes came to him. "What were you saying?"

"I�m not sure it�s wise to just drop in on a man like Nero. There are already folks who think you�re given too much freedom to move about. If Nero thinks you�re pressuring him, he could go to the mayor and have the screws tightened on you."

"I�m not afraid of that."

Eun looked out his window and waited a moment before speaking again. "What does scare you, Chief?"

"What do you mean?"

"We�ve all heard you cry out at night, like you�re having the worst kind of nightmares. Samantha and Morgan both say we shouldn�t mention it, that you�re entitled to your privacy. But I think we�re family now, whether we want to admit it or not. And if something�s eating away at you, we should know about it. So we can help make it better."

Gray slowed the car to a stop in front of a house that could only be described as a mansion. A large stone privacy fence surrounded the property with wrought iron gates preventing unwanted access. "Eun, I appreciate what you�re saying. But there are reasons why I keep certain things to myself."

"Like anything to do with your past? None of us know where you come from or what you did before you opened up Assistance Unlimited. It�s strange sometimes, realizing how little we know about you."

"Do you trust me?"

Eun turned to stare at Gray. "Of course I do. With my life."

"Then allow me this. When I feel I can tell you more, I will. I�m not deliberately keeping things from you. To be honest, you know almost as much about me as I do. Lazarus Gray is probably not my name."

"I don�t understand."

"I�m an amnesiac. I woke up here in Sovereign City back in �33."

"Why didn�t you tell us?"

"I�m not sure. I seem to instinctively try to limit how much others know about me. One reason for my attempts at staying in the public eye was to draw out anyone who might know something about me." Gray hesitated. "Let�s keep this between us for now."

"You don�t want me to mention it to the others?"

"I�d prefer you didn�t. It�s not a matter of trust. It�s� I�m not sure what it is. But I feel it�s better to keep the truth about me as quiet as possible."

Eun frowned, not liking the idea of keeping secrets from his friends. But he felt honored that Gray had shared this with him and so he simply nodded, agreeing to the request.

Together, the two men exited the vehicle and approached the gate. Before they reached it, a broad-shouldered man in a dark suit appeared on the other side. A bulge in his jacket made it clear that he was armed and something about his manner indicated he wouldn�t hesitate to use his weapon.

"Can I help you gentlemen?" he asked, in a voice that was a little higher than would have been expected.

"My name�s Lazarus Gray. I need to speak to Mr. Nero."

"About what?"

"That�s private business between he and I."

"Mr. Nero�s not seeing anybody today." The man adjusted his coat and seemed disturbed by something. "You can leave your card if you want."

Gray�s eyes narrowed, watching the man closely. He was an expert at analyzing body language and he was picking up telltale signs that this brute was not only hiding something, he was afraid. The rapid blinking, the slight hint of perspiration on the upper lip and the fidgeting with his coat all added together as evidence. "Mr. Nero is here, isn�t he?"

"Yeah but like I said, he�s not seeing anyone." The front door of the house opened then and a second man emerged. He was slender and sported a blond moustache. In his left hand, he was clutching a black medical bag.

"Louie!" the doctor yelled. "We need to talk."

"Wait here," Louie said, turning his back on Gray so he could find out what the second man wanted.

Lazarus sprang into action. He took one step back and then flung himself at the gate, latching on with a steely grip. He pulled himself up and over quickly, dropping to his feet before the men on the other side of the gate had even realized what was happening. Louie spun about and muttered a curse, raising a fist. Gray caught it in midair and, in an amazing display of strength, applied so much pressure that the big man fell to one knee, groaning.

"I�m going to let you go," Gray said. "And you�re going to open the gate so my friend can come. And then," he added, looking up at the doctor, who was watching him with mouth agape, "We�re all going to talk."

The doctor nodded. "Louie, do as he says. We don�t have time for this nonsense."

Louie glared at Grey as he got back to his feet, muttering under his breath as he went to open the gate for Eun.

The doctor stepped forward and offered a hand. "Doc Barrington. I recognize you from the papers, Mr. Gray."

"Is something wrong with Mr. Nero?"

Barrington looked over at Louie and obviously made a decision to share information with Gray. "He�s sick, deathly so. There�s nothing I can do for him here. He has to be taken to a hospital or he won�t last through the day."

"May I see him?"

Barrington consented, knowing the many stories that swirled around Lazarus Gray. It was said the man had once performed delicate heart surgery in the middle of a filthy alleyway, using only a pocketknife. Louie followed right on their heels, glaring at Eun the whole way.

"What�s the problem, big fella?" Eun chided. "Jealous that I�m better dressed than you?"

"Shaddup," Louie muttered. "None of you guys are supposed to be in here. Mr. Nero�s gonna get my goat for this."

"I�m afraid your employer isn�t in the position to terrorize anyone right now," Barrington said. The doctor led them through an impressive home, furnished so expensively that it crossed the line from opulence to garishness. As they neared the room where Nero was resting, an unpleasant odor filled the air. It was reminiscent of spoiled meat and Eun had to raise a hand over his face to keep from gagging. He noticed that Louie came to a halt, well away from the door. If the smell bothered Barrington or Gray, neither man gave any sign of it.

Nero was sitting up in a chair, a blanket covering his legs. A window near him was opened, letting in what passed for fresh air in Sovereign. Gray had seen numerous pictures of Nero and the man before him only bore a passing resemblance to him. Nero looked thin and emaciated, the skin drawn taut against his skeleton. He wore a robe that hung loosely from him, evidence of how much weight he had lost.

"How long has he been like this?" Gray asked.

"He came in for an appointment two weeks ago and was perfectly fine. But yesterday I got the call that he was sick. I found him like this. Both he and Louie assure me that he�s been eating and drinking but he continues to waste away. He�s lost seven pounds since last night. It�s like he�s just drying up before my eyes."

Lazarus noticed that Eun straightened at the doctor�s words. Scanlon had reported similar symptoms after his encounter with the phantom-eyed girl. Given the fact that a car registered to Nero had been seen with the girl in tow, this seemed confirmation that Nero had come into contact with her.

Gray approached Nero and pulled up a chair so that he could examine him. Nero�s eyes were sunken orbs and there was a general air of malaise about him. Gray suspected that not even a state-of-the-art hospital would be able to save the man at this point. Soon, organ failure would be setting in. "Mr. Nero. I need to ask you about a girl."

Barrington looked confused but Eun placed a hand on his arm and gestured for silence. Louie was still outside the room, as if being near his employer in this state was too much for him.

"A week ago," Gray continued, "a young woman was kidnapped outside a tavern here. The man who had been with her says that she was quite beautiful but that her eyes possessed unusual properties: he described them as phantom eyes. The car she was bundled into belongs to you. Do you know her?"

Nero took a deep, rattling breath and slowly nodded his head. "They took her. I was trying to help her but they won�t let her go. Not after all the money they spent on her eyes."

"Who are they?"

Nero licked his lips and his eyes fixed on something past Gray�s shoulder. His voice sounded paper-thin. "She was such a lovely thing growing up. I loved her with all my heart but I put such pressure on her. I�d wanted a son, you see. And nothing she did was ever quite going to make up for the lack of a son."

Gray turned his head, his eyes finding the object that was holding Nero�s attention. There was a photograph on the wall of a gorgeous young woman, wearing a white skirt and a violet blouse. She was hanging on the arm of Jonathan Nero, a bright smile on her face. "She�s your daughter?"

"Yes. Her name is Wilma."

Gray reached out and squeezed Nero�s hand, feeling the bones under the shifting flesh. "Tell me who has your daughter."

"She�s with Doc Pemberley and his gang."

Eun gasped. Pemberley was a discredited scientist who had been busted for conducting experiments on vagrants and runaways. The man sometimes sold his services to various mob bosses as well, creating gases and weapons that aided them in their nefarious exploits. Gray had finally brought the man to justice about six months ago but Pemberley had gotten off on a technicality. He�d fled the city in the aftermath and, until now, Eun hadn�t known he�d returned. The young Korean looked over at his employer but, as usual, Gray had his poker face on and was revealing nothing of his own thoughts.

"Please tell me more," Gray pressed.

Nero groaned, prompting Barrington to say, "I don�t think this is wise. He�s far too weak. He needs to be in a hospital."

He�s going to die," Gray said firmly. He saw no surprise in Nero�s eyes at that proclamation. The poor man knew this to be fact. He could feel it, after all. "Before he passes, let him help me save his daughter."

"She fell in love with Pemberley�s son," Nero whispered, losing strength. "I forbade her to see him but you know how young people are. All of that only made her want to be with him more. Eventually, the boy died after volunteering to help his father with his experiments. Then the bastard turned his attentions to my daughter. He did something to her eyes, turned her into a host for something awful. And when she escaped, she was too afraid to come home to me. People who are around her� they suffer. The thing inside her needs to feed." Nero coughed and tiny flecks of red and white dotted his lips. "Somebody at that bar recognized her, though, and gave me a call. I sent my boys to bring her home."

"How did she end up with Pemberley again?"

"It made her go back to him."

"What did? This thing you said is inside her? What is it?"

Nero�s body began to shudder and a rattling sound emanated from his throat. Barrington rushed forward and tried his best but there was nothing to be done. Jonathon Nero, as powerful a figure as any in Sovereign, was dead.

Lazarus stood, leaving the room while Barrington was checking for any last signs of life. He and Eun hurried past Louie in the hallway, exiting the house before the big man could ask what was wrong.

"What now, Chief?" Eun asked. "We gonna stop in and see Doc Pemberley?"

"We need to check in on Morgan and Samantha immediately."

Eun slid into the passenger seat of the car, suddenly realizing that he wasn�t sure what the duo had been assigned to do. "Where are they?"

The strong line of Gray�s jaw tightened. "They�re supposed to be visiting Doc Pemberley right now."

"What in the world are you talking about, Chief?"

Gray kept his eyes on the road but he was able to recount for Eun the reasons behind their associates� current mission. As usual, it involved the fact that Lazarus kept his cards close to the vest and rarely shared all the facts with anyone, including his employees.

"After speaking to Mr. Scanlon, I was struck by what he said about the young woman�s eyes. He called them Phantom Eyes."

"So?"

"When I helped bring Doc Pemberley to justice, I took it upon myself to go through his files. I found several references to some kind of surgery that he had dubbed The Phantom Eyes Project. It involved grafting some sort of parasite behind the eyes. It would derive its nutrition from the moisture found in living beings. If a victim could be found, the creature was able to absorb moisture through physical contact, a process that would lead to the host�s eyes glowing. In the absence of a victim, the parasite would begin feasting upon the moisture found in its host body until they were drained dry. Sometime last month, I heard unconfirmed rumors that Pemberley had returned to this city. I managed to trace him to a brownstone on Maxwell Street."

Eun tapped his chin thoughtfully. "But what kind of creature could do that, though? I�ve never heard of anything that could do those things."

Gray glanced at him and the look on his face chilled Eun to the very core of his being. "That�s because it�s not a creature of this world."

Melvin Pemberley was fifty years old, though he could pass for a man in his mid-thirties. He was handsome in an Aryan sort of way, with shortcut blond hair, blue eyes that resembled chipped polar ice and a coolly efficient manner of conducting himself. He tended to wear the type of white lab coats so often associated with scientists and was rarely found without a pair of surgical gloves on his hands.

Doc Pemberley�s appearance generally caused people to believe he was a hard-working man dedicated to science. The truth was a good bit more sinister. Pemberley was completely amoral. Where the average person would cringe, Pemberley stared unabashed. When a normal man would rush in to save those in need, Pemberley was more apt to pick up a sheet of paper and begin recording the events occurring before him.

And then there was the peculiar interest in the macabre.

Doc Pemberley was not only a world-class authority on scientific matters, he was also an amateur occultist, with a collection of books that would be the envy of almost any parapsychologist in the world. Even the good men and women at Miskatonic University would have been impressed by his holdings. He had one of several books that had been personally bound by the infamous Felix Cole, whose skills in handling the works of the damned were impeccable.

The combination of good looks, remarkable intelligence and a total lack of morals made Doc Pemberley a very, very dangerous man.

He was presently living in a rented brownstone located not more than three blocks from the harbor. He had a gang who worked for him, dangerous enforcers who didn�t mind breaking the necks of those who bothered their boss. His activities were funded through a wide variety of jobs he took for the various crime lords in the city. He worked for them all, creating weapons of hideous damage for each. The fact that he sold to their enemies as well didn�t deter any underworld boss from doing business with him. He was simply that good at killing people.

Doc Pemberley walked up the stairs to the second story of his home, moving so quietly that the two men assigned to guard a certain door didn�t hear him. Their names were Vince and Coley and they were little more than vicious dogs on two legs. They would have worked for Pemberley for free as long as he kept providing violent entertainment.

Vince�s voice carried a bit more and his words were what had led to Pemberley�s decision to use stealth. "That girl needs to be put down. Did you see what she did to Jake? The guy looked like a prune when he died. It was like every bit of water in the guy had been drained out!"

Coley shifted his weight from foot to foot. He was a good bit shorter than Vince and a lot stockier. "The Doc says she can�t really control it so it ain�t her fault."

"A rabid animal attacks and attacks �cause it�s sick in the brain," Vince retorted. "It ain�t really its fault, right? But you still gotta kill it or it�s just gonna hurt more people. Same with this dame."

"The Doc says-"

"I know what Pemberley says! But the man�s got a screw loose and everybody knows it! I like the guy �cause he keeps us busy, you know? But maybe this is one time he ain�t thinking straight."

"Gentlemen."

Vince and Coley both froze in place, their heads turning in unison toward Pemberley. He stood very close to Vince, his hands pushed deep into the pockets of his lab coat.

"Boss," Vince said, sounding a bit shaky. Though he was far larger than Pemberley, there was no denying the fear that shone in his eyes. "I want to explain."

"There�s no need," Pemberley replied. "I understand completely."

Vince sighed, looking relieved. "You do? That�s great. I was just saying that I thought maybe you were wrong on this one. Nobody�s perfect, right?"

"Certainly. I obviously made a mistake when I hired you." Pemberley�s right hand slid from his pocket, a scalpel held in his palm. The hallway light flashed off its polished surface. Doc Pemberley swung the weapon with practiced ease, expertly slicing through Vince�s throat in such a way that there would be no hope of saving him. He was going to bleed out right there in the hallway.

Vince�s eyes widened and he reached up with both hands to clutch at his throat. He staggered away, bumping into Coley, who was watching him with a face bleached of all color. Vince tumbled into the railing, his momentum causing him to flip right over it. He fell to the first floor, landing with a sickening thud.

Pemberley reached out and cleaned his scalpel on Coley�s lapel. "Is there anything you�d like to say to me, Mr. Coley?"

Coley blinked, swallowing hard. "I�m sorry?"

"Good enough for now. I don�t brook insubordination. It makes me feel like I can�t trust you. And we should all trust one another, shouldn�t we?"

"You bet, boss."

"Good. Now go clean up the mess downstairs while I check in on Miss Nero."

Coley hurried away, grateful that he wasn�t sharing his partner�s fate. Not today, at least.

Samantha Grace walked slowly toward the brownstone, her heels clicking on the cobblestones. Morgan Watts was right behind her, his eyes glued to the swaying motion of her hips. Though they engaged in constant bantering, there was nothing particularly romantic about their relationship. Morgan would certainly have been open to such a thing but Samantha kept herself at a distance from most men and Morgan wondered if she wasn�t secretly carrying a torch for Lazarus. He hoped not, because he had a feeling that it would only lead to heartache for the pretty girl.

The Chief had dispatched the two of them out here for reasons mostly unknown to Morgan. Gray had simply said that he needed them to check in on the place and that he had reason to suspect that Doc Pemberley or his associates might be making use of the residence. Morgan was familiar with the doctor, having bumped into him on many occasions back in his criminal days. Pemberley had been a strange sort and Morgan had made sure to never spend too much time alone with the man.

"Should we just give a knock?" Samantha asked, standing outside the front door.

"How about you let me do that and you look around the back?"

Samantha gave a pixyish grin. "Don�t you think they�ll be more relaxed if they see me standing here than you? Or are you just worried that little old me is going to get hurt?"

Morgan frowned. "Quit kidding around, would you? Pemberley�s a nasty one. If he�s hanging around this place, we both have to be on our toes."

"Fine, Morgan. You don�t have to be surly about it." Pouting, Samantha began moving around the side of the house, not sparing another glance at her companion. Morgan felt like calling after her but he held his tongue. She was right about him not wanting her to get hurt but he didn�t want to admit it. Besides, he reasoned, Pemberley might remember him. If he did, then Morgan might be able to come up with some explanation for what he was doing there. What would Samantha say? That she was going door-to-door selling cookies?

Morgan was about to knock on the door when he heard a loud thud come from inside the house. It sounded like something very heavy had been tossed from one floor to the next. He tried the door but found it locked and some sixth sense told him that now would not be a good time to alert anyone to his presence. Whatever had happened in there couldn�t have been a good thing.

Taking a step back, Morgan noticed a vine-covered trellis that led to an open second floor window. Quickly glancing around, Morgan made a quick decision. He tested the trellis to see if it could hold his weight and, after deciding that it could, he threw himself into the act of climbing up to the exposed window.

Around back, Samantha heard the noise as well. She froze in place, expecting to hear a scream or shout but when none came, she slowly slid up against the rear door. To her pleasure, she found that it opened easily at her touch and she stepped into the kitchen area. The place was filthy and completely lacking a woman�s touch. The sink was piled high with dirty dishes and flies buzzed about, landing repeatedly on a couple of half-eaten sandwiches left on the counter.

Samantha was made of stern stuff but she had to shove a hand over her mouth when she found the dead body in the foyer. The man was lying face down with a rapidly spreading pool of blood beneath him. He was quite obviously dead but she still bent down to check for a pulse. Finding none, she looked up and saw no signs of anyone else. Had he fallen by accident? She tilted his head to the side and saw that wasn�t the case. His throat had been slashed.

It was then that Coley entered the room, a large carpet under one arm. He�d meant to roll up his friend�s body and dump it into the trunk of his car but he forgot all about that when he came face-to-face with the pretty girl kneeling on the floor.

Samantha stood up quickly, forcing a pleasant smile on her face. "Hello. The back door was open."

Coley grimaced. He didn�t like hurting dames but he knew that Pemberley wouldn�t be pleased if he let the girl go. "You shouldn�t be here," he said as he dropped the carpet to the floor and took a heavy step toward her. "I don�t know who you are but today�s a very unlucky day, girlie."

The big man towered over the pretty young blonde but there was no fear in her eyes as he approached. He lunged for her with two meaty hands extended but she calmly grabbed hold of his wrist and twisted, using his momentum to send him flying head over heels. He landed on his back, the air momentarily knocked from his lungs.

Samantha pushed her advantage, jumping into the air and landing hard on the side of his head, the heel of her shoe connecting with his skull. He cried out and swatted a hand toward her, making contact with the back of her leg. His strength was enough to knock her off-balance and she had just regained her footing when he scrambled to his feet. The spot where she�d kicked his head was a bright crimson in color, matching the fury that was rising in his eyes.

He snarled out a few colorful insults but Samantha had heard worse. When he came at her again, she noted that he was a bit more careful this time. He threw a ham-sized fist at her head but she ducked under the blow and threw a karate chop into his neck. She�d aimed it directly at his windpipe and the sudden wheezing of his breath told her she�d accomplished her goal. She then straightened and drove her knee directly into his genitalia. The blow made him whimper and as he doubled over, she grabbed him by the hair and shoved him toward a marble countertop nearby. The cracking sound of skull meeting marble was sickening and he slid to the ground, not moving.

Samantha smoothed out her skirt and adjusted her hair before looking up the stairs. She knew she should check out the rest of the house but given the fact that there was now two dead men in the foyer, it seemed prudent to allow Morgan to accompany her. She opened the front door and was surprised to see that her friend was absent. With a concerned look on her face, she shut the door and contemplated what she should do next. The sensible thing would be to exit the building and look for Morgan.

But sensibility wasn�t really what defined Samantha Grace.

After closing the door again, but leaving it unlocked in case Morgan returned, she spun about and began treading carefully up the stairs.

Wilma Nero sat on the edge of her bed, feeling a mixture of satisfaction and shame. There was a dead girl on the floor, a streetwalker that Pemberley had procured for the purpose of feeding the creature lurking behind Wilma�s eyes. As always, Wilma had tried to stop it from happening but it was impossible. Her eyes had begun to glow and the girl�s moisture had been drained right out of her. She now lay on the floor, as leathery as an Egyptian mummy. Wilma felt a deep sense of wholeness within her, as the monster began to slumber with its full belly, but she also felt revulsion at what she had become.

Pemberley had entered her room, though she hadn�t noticed at first. When she finally looked up at him through red-rimmed eyes, he was standing at the foot of her bed, looking at her expectantly.

"How do you feel, my dear?"

"Like a monster. How else should I feel?"

"You�re not a monster. You�re part of something beautiful and wonderful. Utterly unique in all the world."

Wilma stood up and the sudden motion made the thing behind her eyes begin to stir. It felt like a troublesome tickle, she thought, and shivered at the realization that she was getting used to its presence. "Would you think it so wonderful if I let it feed on you, I wonder?"

"You couldn�t stop it if you wanted to," Pemberley answered with a sneer. "It�s the one in control, not you. You�re nothing more than a very pretty traveling case. That thing in your head knows that I�m the one who gave you to it and I�m the one who can help it and its children flourish."

Wilma looked down at her feet. "How is my father?"

"Dead most likely."

The callous way he said those words hurt Wilma more than anything. It reminded her of how he�d dealt with the death of his son. He�d been more upset at the loss of his experiment than anything. "I�m going to kill myself," she whispered. "I�m going to throw myself out that open window."

"You and I both know that�s not true. You can�t. It won�t let you."

"What is this thing?" she asked, reaching up to gently touch the corner of her eye.

"I�ve explained it to you before," Pemberley said, reaching out to take her by the shoulders. He steered her back toward the bed and gently pushed her down until she was seated on the mattress. "It�s a creature called an aquaas. It�s actually a very ancient life form that was birthed out amongst the stars. A few dozen of them fell to earth during the 19th century, scattering all across North America. They were encased in hard shells that resembled meteorites but it was really just another stage of their development. They encase themselves in those rocky exteriors to survive the rigors of space. I first learned of them a few years ago when a man sold me several of the creatures, still in their capsules. I cracked one open and imagine my surprise at what I found: a tiny little monster with an insatiable desire for the kind of moisture found only in living things. After I witnessed its habit of burrowing behind the eyes of its still-living victims, I came up with the idea of surgically implanting them, making them far stronger."

"And to what purpose? Just to show how sick human beings can be?"

Pemberley knelt in front of her, holding her hands in his. "You�re the prototype to not only a new form of life � a melding of human and aquaas � but also the first of an entirely new type of soldier. Imagine a whole army of men and women who can kill without guns or knives. All they�ll need is their eyes."

"I think I�ve heard enough."

Pemberley stood up quickly and whirled about. Morgan Watts was pulling himself in through the window, a pistol clutched tightly in his right hand. "Morgan Watts?" Pemberley asked in shock.

"I�m flattered you remember me, Doc."

"I remember everyone. I�m a genius."

"And a modest one, to boot." Morgan waved the gun at Pemberley, indicating he should step away from Wilma. He did so and the girl looked at Morgan in confusion. "Don�t worry, doll, I�m getting you out of here. I work for Lazarus Gray and if there�s any man alive who can get that thing out of your head, he�s the one."

"It seems like you have the upper hand," Pemberley admitted. "I should warn you that I have an armed guard outside who is twice your size and three times as deadly."

Morgan was about to reply when he heard a series of thumps from downstairs, followed by a gasp that sounded disturbingly familiar. In a split-second he realized what was happening: Samantha had managed to find her way inside and come toe-to-toe with the guard that Pemberley had just described.

In that moment when Morgan�s attention was divided, Pemberley sprang toward him. The crazed doctor batted aside the hand holding the pistol and he then proceeded to throw a haymaker punch that caused Morgan�s entire body to snap around. Pemberley then slammed Morgan�s head into the wall hard enough to chip the paint.

As Morgan fell to the floor, groaning in pain, Pemberley snatched up Wilma by the wrist, holding it so tightly that the girl whimpered in pain. "We have to get out of here," he hissed. "I have plans for you and I can�t afford any of Gray�s minions getting in the way."

"Please," Wilma cried, "just kill me! I can�t go on like this!"

Pemberley laughed then, a maniacal sound that so frightened the girl that she fainted in his arms. "No death for you," he hissed through grinning lips. "You won�t be so lucky, my dear."

Morgan Watts felt something cool and wet press against his forehead and he winced in pain. He opened his eyes to find himself on a couch, Samantha perched beside him, looking concerned. "Where�s Pemberley?" he asked, trying to sit up but quickly laying back down when his head throbbed in agony.

"He�s gone," Lazarus Gray answered, stepping into view. Eun was right behind him, the young man looking troubled and more than a little angry. "We arrived a few moments ago and Samantha filled us in as much as she could. You ran into the doctor himself, I presume?"

"I did. He had the girl with him, too. The one with the Phantom Eyes. I heard him talking to her. She�s got some sort of monster in her head and-"

"We know all about that," Eun said, smirking a bit. He always liked knowing more than Morgan � it was a competition between the two. "Do you know where he�s taken her?"

"No. I know he said he had some kind of plans but that�s all I could hear before I blacked out."

Lazarus turned away, having already examined Morgan. He knew that the man was going to be hurting and unsteady for a bit more but there wouldn�t be any permanent damage. "I may have an idea where he�s gone," Gray murmured and instantly his three aides grew quiet, giving him their full attention. Gray reached out and picked up a small writing tablet from a nearby table. The top sheet had been ripped away but his keen eyes detected the imprint of pencil marks on the next page. He used the pencil that had been sitting next to the tablet to gently reveal what those imprints had been, rubbing the side of the graphite over the writing. An address came into view and Gray�s keen memory told him that 1935 Monk Avenue was an old warehouse, abandoned when the owning company went belly-up a few years before he�d arrived in Sovereign. There was also a time listed next to it, one that was less than an hour away. "Eun, please take Morgan back to base. He needs time to recover. Samantha, you�re to come with me."

"Chief!" both Eun and Morgan exclaimed in unison. The two men looked at one another and it was Morgan who continued on. "Chief, I�ll be fine. And you can�t go into a showdown with Pemberley with just Samantha! You need Eun and I!"

Samantha crossed her arms over her chest and glared at Morgan, obviously not liking his implications. "Are you saying I�m dead weight?"

"No!" Morgan answered. "I just mean� C�mon, Chief. You know we want to be in on this one."

Gray looked at them with steady eyes, the mismatched pair narrowing. His emerald eye seemed to shine just as brightly as the brown one darkened. "I appreciate your desire to help but you�re in no condition for a fight, nor can you drive at the present. Eun will take you back and he�ll make sure you stay there."

Eun nodded, his respect for Gray overriding his own desire to argue. Morgan, too, slumped in defeat.

"Don�t worry, boys," Samantha said with a triumphant grin. "I�ll give Pemberley a swift kick in your honor."

The German was dressed like an undertaker and he leaned heavily on a walking stick that was topped by a roaring lion�s head. His eyes were narrow slits that radiated such anger that Pemberley was surprised they weren�t smoking. Walther Lunt had once been a handsome man but a beaker of acid thrown in his face had ruined his good looks. Now one half of his face was twisted into a horrific visage that frightened even the prostitutes who were paid to spend their nights in his bed.

"I expected better accommodations than this, Herr Pemberley," Lunt said with obvious disdain. His eyes raked across the rat-infested warehouse. There were boxes stacked here and there but for the most part the cavernous facility was empty. The squeaks of its current inhabitants sometimes filled the air, as if the rodents were protesting the intrusion of the humans into their domicile.

"We make do with what we have," Pemberley said. His iron grip on Wilma�s arm never wavered. "I brought her here so you could see first hand what I�ve done. And you can tell your leader that I can do this for his army, if he funds my research."

"I work with Hitler, not for him."

Pemberley inclined his head. They�d been over this before. "I apologize. But soon enough, everyone will answer to him, won�t they?" Pemberley laughed. "I do admire the man, not only for his ability to resurrect the slumbering giant that is Germany but also for his private views on race and science. I�ve heard much about his desires to-"

"Enough." Lunt stepped forward and removed Pemberley�s hand from Wilma�s arm. "I would like to look at her myself."

"Be careful. The aquaas recognizes me as its master but it may strike you."

"I do not think it will," Lunt responded. He was looking at Wilma�s eyes intently, ignoring the revulsion that was marring her beauty. The girl was unable to tear her gaze away from his ruined face.

Pemberley stood nearby, his heart hammering in his chest as Wilma�s eyes began to glow. The blue light seemed to shimmer before becoming an almost blinding glare. Pemberley wanted to warn Lunt again about the danger but the German would have simply ignored him again. The man had the air about him of someone who considered all others to be inferior. He was an occultist, one whose knowledge of the hidden worlds dwarfed even Pemberley�s. The group he headed had no name, or at least it was one that hadn�t been shared with Pemberley, but it was pervasive, with members spread throughout the world.

"You�re quite potent, aren�t you? And always so hungry." Lunt was speaking not to Wilma but to the aquaas that lurked behind her eyes. He pushed her away so hard that she tripped over her own feet and fell to the dusty floor. She screamed as she landed in the pervasive rat droppings. "You have more of these things? Or are you waiting for this one to lay eggs so you can harvest them?"

Pemberley gestured to one of the boxes nearby. "I�ve collected nearly ten of them. Three were damaged when I got them and one of the aquaas died when my son perished. But that stills five in addition to the one that Wilma is carrying."

"May I see them?"

"Of course." Pemberley moved away from Lunt, grabbing the lid of the box. He yanked on it, pulling it loose. "I�m hoping you�ll let me accompany you back to Germany. Things are getting far too tense around here. A local meddler sent some of his men to my house today. They�re on to me again."

"You�re saying the police know you�re back in Sovereign?"

"Not the police." Pemberley tossed the box lid to the floor, where it landed and sent up a cloud of polluted dust. "There�s a group in town called Assistance Unlimited. They make a living out of sticking their noses where they don�t belong. Their leader�s some mystery man named Lazarus Gray."

Lunt gripped Pemberley hard about the shoulders and spun him about. "What did you say?"

"His name�s Lazarus Gray. What�s wrong? Haven�t you heard of him before? The guy�s famous!"

"Why would I keep up with your local politics?" Lunt said with annoyance. He looked past Pemberley into the box, where the rest of the alien creatures lay in their immobile states. "Lazarus Gray," he repeated. "How long has he been active in this city?"

"Less than two years. But they�ve been busy ones. He�s responsible for the troubles that got me banished from the city for awhile."

"Intriguing." Lunt smiled then but it was cold and reptilian. "I�m impressed with you. You�ve kept your word to the letter. You�ve successfully grafted one of these creatures to a human being and kept them both alive. And you have more to spare."

"Then I�ll get my funding?"

"You�re going to be a very important man in the days to come, Melvin." Lunt turned back to Wilma, who was back on her feet now, her eyes downcast. She looked broken and tired. "Did the aquaas make her like that? Or was she always so weak-willed?"

"A little of both," Pemberley said.

The door to the warehouse opened suddenly and two figures stepped in, pistols held in hand. Pemberley growled, recognizing Lazarus Gray immediately. The stoic-faced man was virtually impossible to forget, even if Pemberley hadn�t possessed a mind like a steel trap. Lunt also reacted with recognition, his eyes widening in shock.

Gray noted both men�s reactions but it was the man with the scarred face who most disturbed him. Not only did he seem strangely familiar but the lion�s head on his walking stick looked eerily like the half-man�s head on the back of Gray�s medallion.

Samantha noticed Gray�s hesitation and stepped up. "Both of you need to back away from the girl and put your hands up."

Lunt noticed that Pemberley did so, though he was muttering under his breath. The German, however, did something far more surprising. He slammed the butt of his walking stick down hard on the floor and then tossed the stick away from him, throwing it with all his might toward Samantha and Lazarus.

Gray somehow sensed what was about to occur. He shoved Samantha behind him and moved to protect her. The stick seemed to shimmer in midair and when it landed, it was not a piece of wood at all� it was a fully grown African lion, its mouth open in a roar that shook the walls. The beast�s jaws were slavering and it looked like it was half-starved and mad with hunger.

"Chief, what the hell?" Samantha whispered.

Lazarus raised his pistol and fired as the creature rushed toward him. Two bullets sank deep in the mighty beast�s chest but it continued on, leaping upon him. His weight sent Gray to his back and only Gray�s tremendous strength managed to hold the snapping jaws away from his face. Gray let his gun drop so he�d have all his fingers free for the herculean task.

Samantha was momentarily taken aback but she quickly realized the deadly predicament her employer was in. She took a step toward the lion and directed her gun at the side of the beast�s head. It whirled toward her but this only meant that her shot hit home directly between its eyes. The lion let out a roar of surprised pain and fell forward onto Gray. A lion�s dead weight would be enough to leave most men unable to move, but Gray was wriggling free before Samantha even realized he was doing it.

Pemberley slammed into the girl, knocking her hard into the door. A cry of pain erupted from her lips and Pemberley drove a fist into her pretty face, knocking her out. Samantha was a wildcat in battle, with the ability to deal with men three and four times her size� but when taken by surprise, she was helpless as anyone else would be.

Gray saw Samantha fall and though his face did not show it, a burning ember of rage flared into an inferno in his heart. He gripped Pemberley by the collar and drew him toward him. One powerful punch later and the vile scientist was lying on the ground, blood and mucus streaming from his shattered nose.

A cry of pain drew Gray�s attention back to Lunt, who was holding a struggling Wilma by her hair. The girl�s eyes were glowing blue, indicating that the aquaas was feeling threatened.

"Seeing you here, like this, is a revelation," Lunt said.

"Who are you? How do you know me?" Gray�s voice was filled with emotion, which would have shocked his employees. He normally kept a tight lid on his private concerns but he was unable to do so now. This man before him might know the truth about who he really was, or at least know how Gray could find out more.

"You�re a hero to these people, aren�t you?" Lunt said. "I wonder if any of them know how much blood is on your hands? And the audacity of calling yourself Lazarus Gray!" Lunt shook his head. "The others will think me mad when I tell them that you�re alive� and that this is what you�ve become."

"Please help me," Wilma whined, straining her head so she could see Gray. "Please help me� or kill me." Her eyes flashed brighter with every painful word.

Lazarus realized that while he desperately wanted answers, he had to free Wilma. That was his first priority and everything else would have to take a backseat. He reached into one of his pockets and pulled out a small dagger. "Let her go."

"No." Lunt cackled and the scarring on his face reddened, making it look like the veins between were about to burst out into the light. "If you want the bitch so badly, then take her!" Lunt yanked her back so her neck was stretched taut. With his free hand, he pulled out a knife of his own, one that gleamed in the warehouse lighting. "But if I were you, Mr. Lazarus Gray, I would drop your weapon and step away from the door. Otherwise, I�ll slit her throat from ear-to-ear."

Gray was calculating the odds of throwing his dagger and hitting the German. He was a crack shot with both throwing knives and handguns but it was still an awful risk. The girl had begged for her death but Gray wasn�t about to take that route. He would protect her until his own dying breath. She was an innocent victim in all of this, despite the crimes of her father.

Before Gray could make his move, Lunt began to cry out. The skin of his face and hands began to wither, as if something was sucking the moisture right out of him. He dropped his hold on Wilma but it was too late. The aquaas had sensed the threat to its host and was now responding, using all of its power to remove this dangerous creature. Lunt opened his mouth and he tried to scream something at Lazarus but Gray couldn�t make it out. The man�s mouth was too dry and his tongue was beginning to break apart, turning to dust that ran down Lunt�s chin. He fell to the floor, a horrible hitching sound coming from his chest. He ended up posed just above the floor, looking like a strange sculpture made of leather and bone.

Wilma fainted again, her will no longer enough to keep her going. Gray hurried toward her and had just knelt beside her when he heard the door to the warehouse slam shut. He looked up in alarm, his eyes scanning over the still form of Samantha. It was Pemberley, making a break for it.

Let him go, Gray decided. Justice will find him soon enough.

Wilma Nero smiled gratefully. "Thank you so much, Mr. Gray. I don�t know how I can repay you."

The girl looked so bright and cheerful, it was almost impossible to think that until a few days ago she�d been the host to an alien parasite. She sat with Peter Scanlon in the meeting room of Assistance Unlimited, facing Lazarus and his aides. She was holding Peter�s hand and the man looked ecstatic. Once Gray had told her that it had been Scanlon�s chivalric desire to help her that had led Gray on to the case, she�d warmed to the man considerably.

"No payment is necessary," Gray replied. "Your case has given me more than you know and monetary recompense would only taint that."

Wilma looked confused but she nodded. After she and Scanlon had been shown out, Gray turned to face his staff, all of which were looking at him with interest.

A faint smile touched Gray�s lips and vanished just as rapidly. "Ask away."

The three of them exchanged glances and it was Morgan who spoke up first. "The moisture-eating worm?"

"I removed it myself and threw it into the fireplace. I also disposed of the others that were in the warehouse."

"Pemberley?" Eun asked.

"Still on the loose. We�ll have to keep an eye out for him. He�s dangerous and growing more unstable by the day."

It was now Samantha�s turn and she realized that the boys had left it to her to broach the most difficult subject. "What did you mean about this case giving you so much?"

"Is that really what you want to ask?"

Samantha swallowed hard. "When I was on the floor, I heard some of what was going on. Between you and that German. It didn�t make much sense."

Gray sighed, looking quickly at Eun and then back to Samantha. "My name isn�t Lazarus Gray. I don�t know what my name is. I woke up in the harbor during the summer of 1933. All I know about myself are a few scattered memories� and this." He pulled out the medallion from his pocket, holding it up for the others to see. "A lion-headed man and the words Lazarus Gray scrawled on the back."

"You�ve checked your face and prints against the FBI files?" Morgan asked.

"Of course. No one recognizes me and I have no record that can be traced. But that man knew me. He�s a piece from my past."

"And the lion?" Samantha asked. "How did that man do that? Was he a magician?"

"A literal one, perhaps. There are strange things in this world, things that defy rational explanations. Some of my memories are related to human sacrifice and occult gatherings." Gray clasped his hands behind his back and looked at each of them, his eyes slowly shifting from one to the other. "I have a feeling that things will never be the same for us. I cannot promise you that we will continue to face gangsters and rapists. If any of you want to walk away now, I will understand."

Morgan grunted. "Are you kidding, Chief? We all owe you our lives. Whatever happens from here on out, you�ve got Assistance Unlimited at your side."

Gray saw the determination in their eyes and nodded grimly. Though he would never say it aloud, he loved his aides. That was why he was both pleased to hear that they would stay with him and also more than a bit frightened. In the nocturnal war that was looming ever larger in Sovereign City, one that was threatening to involve forces beyond explanation, there was no guarantee that any of them would live to see the dawn.

Harry Nance held the envelope to his lips with trembling fingers. His tongue dragged heavily across the strip of glue that would seal away the eight parchment leaves. When he was done, he checked the addressed he�d hurriedly scrawled, verifying that it was correct: 6196 Robeson Avenue, Sovereign City. Satisfied that it would reach its intended audience, Harry dropped the envelope into the mailbox and pulled his long overcoat tighter around his body. A harsh wind was blowing, carrying with it the salty scent of the harbor and the acrid odor of a heavily polluted city. Sovereign was a harsh place to grow up and Harry liked to think that if he�d been born in another place and time, he could have been something great.

The truth was that Harry was like so many men in the world: he was willing to trade his soul for easy money. He was a lazy soul, one who wanted the trappings of success but who wasn�t willing to put in the hard work required to achieve it honestly.

And now the devil was coming to collect his due.

Harry looked up at the nighttime sky, his heart hammering in his chest. He�d made a terrible mistake and wished desperately that he could undo it� but it was too late for apologies. Besides, what was on those eight pages was so terrible that not even a man like Harry could leave them in the wrong hands. That�s why he�d packaged them up and sent them on their way, intending for them to end up someplace safe.

Two men stepped around a corner up ahead, blocking Harry�s path. Both of them wore dark clothing, the sort that had once been associated with those Oriental assassins dubbed Ninja. Each of the men held a three-pronged blade that Harry knew was called a sai.

Harry whirled around, intending to retreat in the opposite direction but he came to an abrupt stop. There were three more men standing behind him, two of them ninja. The third was all the more frightening: for he was leader of these men, who collectively were known as Black Heart. Black Heart served Malcolm Goodwill, one of the most ironically named human beings on the planet. Goodwill had no love for any person other than himself. Standing six feet, six inches tall, he looked down on virtually everyone. Goodwill had silver blond hair and arched eyebrows. He dressed like a European aristocrat and had cultivated a pseudo-British accent, despite the fact that he had been born in Philadelphia.

"Harry," Goodwill said with a shake of his head. "I�ve treated you well, have I not? Didn�t I give you a bonus last Christmas? And when your mother needed eye surgery, who paid for it?"

"It�s wrong what you�re doing," Harry stated but his words lacked conviction. The fear made his voice shake too much to carry moral authority.

Goodwill gestured for his ninja to move closer to Harry. They encircled him but held off from making any attacks. "That�s not really for you to decide, now is it?"

Harry looked around but the streets were deathly silent. No cars could be seen and if there were any beat cops about, they were staying to the shadows. A few drops of rain began to fall and Harry was glad of it. They would help hide the tears that were threatening to come. "I don�t have the pages anymore. They�re gone."

"Where are they?"

Harry swallowed hard and summoned every bit of courage he possessed. He tried to pretend he was a movie star, someone like William Powell. "I�m not gonna talk. You might as well kill me, Malcolm. Sometimes a man has to do what�s right and for the first time in my life, I�m gonna do that."

Goodwill stared hard at him and then slowly reached into his jacket and retrieved a cigar. He took his time in lighting a match and touching it to the tip of the cigar. After puffing on it several times, he smiled at Harry. "Good for you, Harry. I admire you for this." He looked at his men, who stood at the ready. "Well? You heard the man? Let�s not ruin the moment by giving him the chance to beg. Kill him."

Harry�s eyes opened wide and he immediately regretted his earlier bravado. He started to beg for another chance but the men surrounding him struck too quickly. Their blades fell upon him, carving him up like a Thanksgiving turkey.

Goodwill puffed away on his cigar, anger blazing in his evil heart. He couldn�t believe that a petty numbers runner like Harry Nance was undoing all of his carefully laid plans. He tried to think of where a man like Harry would have hidden the papers and finally came to the conclusion that Harry had never been the sharpest tool in the shed. The papers were probably hidden away somewhere in his apartment.

The dark-clad members of Black Heart returned to their master, leaving Harry�s corpse in the middle of the sidewalk. "Let�s go, gentlemen. We have places to be."

The headquarters of Assistance Unlimited was located at 6196 Robeson Avenue. Lazarus Gray had purchased all three of the buildings that lay on this city block, transforming what had once been an unassuming neighborhood into the beating heart of his enterprise. The centerpiece of his holdings was a three-story structure that had once been a hotel. Gray�s three associates used the first floor, while the second had been gutted and converted into one large room that was used for meetings, briefings and research. The third floor was off-limits to everyone but Gray himself and was his private domicile.

Across the street were several storefronts owned by Lazarus, all of which had closed down at the dawn of the Great Depression.

Samantha Grace, the pretty blonde who was the only distaff member of Assistance Unlimited, was sorting through the mail while gazing out the window. A typical drizzly morning had greeted her upon waking and the distant rumble of thunder suggested that the worst was yet to come.

The majority of letters the group received consisted of interview requests. The press, it seemed, could not get enough of the mysterious Lazarus Gray. All of these were dropped into the trash. Lazarus wasn�t in this racket for publicity and neither were his aides. All of them had suffered because of the criminal elements and each had sworn the same oath as their leader: to stop at nothing until the innocent people of Sovereign City were able to walk their streets without fear for their safety.

An unmarked envelope caught Samantha�s attention and she slid a stainless steel letter opener under its side. The envelope opened easily, spilling a handful of papers onto the floor. Samantha knelt to retrieve them, muttering a bit under her breath. Her scarlet colored skirt rustled about long legs as she rose to her feet and she became aware that someone was watching her. Looking over her shoulders she saw Morgan Watts gazing with admiration. "Something I can help you with, Morgan?" she asked.

"Not at all. You�re just a welcome ray of sunshine, that�s all."

Samantha rolled her eyes but silently welcomed the attention. Morgan was a handsome man but he was a good bit older than her and had a checkered background. A former gangster himself, Morgan was the Chief�s eyes and ears on the street. Samantha, who came from a high-class background, found Morgan�s past exploits somewhat exotic but she would never think to ruin their friendship by pursuing romantic interests. She believed Morgan felt the same but he was a man, after all. He was bound to look upon occasion. "Look at these," she said, flipping through the pages. "Strangest things I�ve ever seen."

Morgan took one of the pages from her and studied it. That it was quite old was undeniable. It felt like calfskin and the page was crammed with writing, all in Latin. Each sheet was extremely long, measuring nearly three feet in length. "Who sent these?"

"There�s no return address."

"Too bad my Latin�s so rusty."

Samantha smirked, knowing that Morgan knew as much about Latin as he did about ladies� fashion. In other words, virtually nothing. "I�ll take them to the Chief."

"Sounds like a plan." Morgan handed over the sheet he�d been holding and cleared his throat. "Listen, doll, you doing anything Saturday night?"

Samantha blinked, wondering if she�d heard correctly. "Just the usual: hanging around headquarters and waiting for something to happen."

"Well, I have these tickets for the movie house. It�s nothing fancy, mind you � one of those Evelyn Gould adventure flicks � but I was thinking that since I have two tickets and there�s only one of me that I should take somebody with me."

"Are you asking me on a date?"

"No!" Morgan guffawed and Samantha wasn�t certain if she should feel relieved or insulted. "It�s just two friends, doll. Nothing more than that. Believe me!"

Samantha fought to keep a frown off her face. "That�s fine. We can do that, Morgan. But I can�t promise anything, really. I mean, anything might come up between now and then."

"Of course. Same here."

"Good." Samantha turned away and headed toward the stairs. She didn�t look back at Morgan but if she had, she would have seen him wincing. Their conversation hadn�t gone anywhere along the lines of what he�d intended and he was beginning to wonder if there was something about Miss Grace that would always leave him tripping over his feet.

Lazarus Gray was not a particularly large man but there was something about him that made men pause when they saw him. It might have been the mismatched eyes, one a sparkling emerald and the other a brooding brown. Or it might have been the stern, almost emotionless cast of his features. But most likely it was the way he moved, with the elegant grace of a dancer and the dangerous tread of a panther.

Eun Jiwon normally considered himself a very dangerous individual. Quick and athletic, the young Korean had proven himself capable of dealing with two or three grown men in combat but against Gray, he found himself simply outclassed. The two men were sparring now, throwing punches and kicks so quickly that they were little more than blurs to the naked eye. But Eun knew that Gray was holding back, a supposition that proved correct when Samantha entered the training area, an envelope in hand. Gray ducked another one of Eun�s fists and delivered two quick chops to the younger man�s midsection, knocking the breath from his lungs. Gray then finished him with a kick to the knee that left Eun temporarily hobbled.

Gray straightened and gave his opponent a polite bow. "Excellent work, Eun."

The Korean stared at him in disbelief. Though he was far younger than Gray, he was panting and covered in sweat while the older man looked fresh as a daisy. Eun gingerly walked over to pluck up a towel and was using it to wipe off his brow when Samantha handed over the papers to Gray.

"This came in the mail this morning, Chief. No return address. I took Latin in school but I can�t really make heads or tails of this."

Lazarus studied the pages very carefully, his eyes raking over the words. "Everyone needs to come together in the briefing room. Immediately."

The tone in his voice brooked no further discussion. Samantha whirled at once, heading off to fetch Morgan. Eun, meanwhile, set the automatic recording devices that answered the phones when the team was busy. Within moments, all four members of Assistance Unlimited were gathered around a sturdy oak table.

Gray sat at the head of the table, the papers arranged in two rows of four in front of him. He was dressed in black slacks and a white shirt today, the sleeves of which were rolled up to the midpoint of his forearms. It was a fairly casual look for Gray but even so his ever-present tie was in place. "We have an interesting case before us," Gray said at last. "These pages are extracted from a tome known as the Codex Gigas."

Morgan leaned forward. "How do you know that?"

"The content of the pages leads me to that conclusion but it�s borne out by the size of the sheets themselves. The Codex Gigas is the largest extant medieval manuscript in the world. It weighs over 160 pounds and has measurements of 36 inches in height, nearly 20 inches in width and over 8 inches in thickness."

Morgan glanced over at Eun, who gave a shrug of his shoulders. None of them were surprised that their leader would be able to quote such figures off the top of his head, but it was impressive nonetheless. Despite the fact that his own past was a mystery to him, Gray�s head was filled with data about subjects both famous and obscure. "Okay. So it�s an old book. What�s it about?"

Gray picked up on one of the pages and studied it. "The tome contains the Vulgate Bible, as well as many historical documents. The entire thing is written in Latin and legend has it that Herman the Recluse compiled it in the Benedictine monastery of Podlazice near Chrudim. It�s drifted from hand to hand since then but was seized in 1648 as plunder by the Swedish army. The rest of the book is currently part of the National Library of Sweden. People have known for years that there were eight missing pages and these appear to be them."

"Are we going to contact the Swedes, then?" Eun asked.

"No. Not yet. You see, there is a bit more to the story. There is a legend attached to it and these pages may shed some further illumination upon that. I daresay the secrets contained here are worth dying for."

Morgan sat back and grinned. "Well don�t keep us in suspense, Chief. Spin the yarn for us."

Gray stood up, clasping his hands behind his back as he began to pace slowly back and forth. His voice remained low and even but all of his aides found themselves leaning forward as he talked, drawn in by the tale he was weaving. "The story goes that Herman the Recluse broke his monastic vows and was sentenced to be walled up alive in the monastery."

"Must have been some nasty business he took part in," Morgan muttered, drawing a stern frown from Samantha.

Gray continued as if he hadn�t heard Morgan�s interruption. "In order to avoid this fate, the monk promised that he would create a book that would contain all the knowledge of man. The other monks, hungry to see his fall from grace, demanded that he do this in a single night. Having no other choice, he agreed and began to work. At some point in the night, he gave in to despair, knowing that he would never have a hope of succeeding. And so he turned to the one being who might help him: the Devil himself. Satan claimed the monk�s soul and completed the book for him, going so far as to insert a self-portrait on page 577. The image is a horrific depiction of the Devil and all those who gaze upon it feel a shiver go down their spines. It�s like staring into the abyss. Modern scholars who have studied the manuscript are adamant that a single hand wrote it all, with no discrepancy due to age, sickness or simply the passage of time. It�s estimated that it would have taken twenty years or more for a single person to create such a work."

"So the work isn�t cursed?" Samantha asked. "I can�t believe Satan would create something like that and not have it be something incredibly evil."

Gray looked at her. "In addition to all the histories included in the tome, there are also magical spells. These are mostly exorcisms but it�s been rumored for centuries that the missing eight pages contained spells of summoning, rituals that would allow mortal men to summon entities of great power and bind them."

"And do they? Eun wondered aloud. He reached for one of the pages and held it up before his eyes. The writing looked like gibberish to him but he couldn�t deny that there was a tingling sensation in his fingertips whenever they made contact with the paper.

"Yes. They do."

Morgan exhaled loudly and when everyone turned to look at him, he shrugged. "I just don�t see what the big deal is. So we found some old papers that have magic spells written on them. So what? We�re not actually going to act like we believe in this stuff, are we?"

"What about the Scanlon case?" Samantha reminded him. "Mr. Scanlon comes to us and hires us to track down Wilma Nero, who happens to have an alien creature living behind her eyes? And I run into a man who turns his walking stick into a lion, right in front of me? Who�s to say what�s real and what�s not? Besides, it�s obvious the Chief believes in it and that�s good enough for me."

"Thank you, Samantha." Gray took back the page that Eun had been holding. He took all eight pages and put them back into order. "I have every reason to believe that these pages have been used to summon a demonic entity. Unfortunately, without these pages, whomever has done so is in a world of trouble. The spells that are used to bind the demon must be performed on a regular basis or else the hold begins to weaken. Likewise, the demon cannot be banished without the words on these pages."

Morgan tapped his chin thoughtfully. "So somebody sent us these pages to screw somebody else over?"

"Possibly. Or they may have wanted us to use the spells contained on these pages to banish the demon in question."

"But where do we go from here? We don�t know who sent the pages or who might have summoned these things, assuming that they have." Morgan stood up. "Looks to me like we�re at a dead end."

"Not necessarily. There are actually two clues here and they both bear investigating. Firstly, the envelope itself is oversized to accommodate the size of the papers." Gray lifted up the envelope and turned it so that the backside of it was facing his aides. "Look closely at the bottom here. You�ll note that someone recently wrote some numbers down. The imprint went through the paper that was used and onto the envelope. It�s a local phone number. I took the liberty of checking with the operator before this meeting began. It�s the phone number of an importer named Malcolm Goodwill. I�d like for Samantha and Eun to pay him a visit."

"Will do, Chief," Eun piped up. "Should we tell him why we�re there?"

"No. Go under the pretense of wanting to buy some something that would remind you of home. Given your ethnic background, it won�t surprise him that you�d be looking for hard-to-find items that the usual stores here wouldn�t stock. He runs his business from his home so you may also get the opportunity to learn about his personal life."

Morgan began to grin. "And what about you and me, Chief? What angle are we taking?"

"We�re going to visit a man named Harry Nance."

"Nance? I know him. Small-time numbers runner. A real small fish in the big Sovereign pond."

"He might be a bigger fish than you think." Gray tapped the papers. "Because he�s the man who sent us this envelope."

Harry Nance�s apartment was never particularly well kept but now it looked like a tornado had descended upon it. The mattress had been ripped off the bed and sliced apart while every drawer and cabinet had been opened and rifled through.

The black-clad ninja had finally admitted defeat and Goodwill had banished them back to his home. He remained behind, however, sitting on Harry�s couch, in the middle of the mess. He�d hoped that something would occur to him, some clue as to where Harry might have stashed the pages.

A chill took hold of the room as the temperature dropped some twenty degrees in the space of mere seconds. Goodwill glanced down to see that his breath was now visible, emerging from his mouth in tiny clouds of carbon dioxide. Goodwill took out a cigar and lit it, using the expensive smoke as a calming influence.

A humanoid figure took shape beside him. The smell of cinnamon filled Goodwill�s nostrils, overwhelming even the acrid odor of his cigar. He kept his eyes straight ahead, however, refusing to turn and look at her.

"Do you have something for me to do?" a feminine voice said and Goodwill felt his resolve weakening. When he�d summoned this demon, he�d expected almost anything besides what he�d gotten. A female with a seductive voice and a body to kill for� but a face that was so horrid that even one glance meant that you�d forever see it when you closed your eyes at night. Her name was Sazar and she was a blood demon, one who relished sex and death in equal amounts. "I grow tired of walking invisibly at your side."

"It�s what I want of you. If people see you, it�s going to cause problems."

A soft foot began to rub against his leg. "Don�t you like me, Malcolm?"

"Of course I do. But now isn�t the time." Goodwill stood up, taking a long drag on his cigar.

"I need to eat," the demon said petulantly. "I haven�t killed in days. Why didn�t you let me sup on Harry Nance? You wasted all that blood."

Goodwill didn�t answer at first. He had kept her at bay because he�d sensed his hold on her was slipping. He needed the stolen pages from the Codex Gigas to renew his power. Without it, she could easily slip her bonds and turn on him. He wondered if she could tell that her leash was growing ever longer. "I�ll let you feast this evening," he said. "Now be gone!"

Sazar rose from the couch and rubbed his shoulders. He could smell her soft skin and a part of him yearned to take her. But the thought of her face was too much for him and slowed the rush of blood that she always brought on. "There are other things I hunger for as well. Can you promise to satisfy those desires as well?" she teased.

"Of course. With relish." Goodwill reached up to squeeze her hand. A knock at the door made him pause and he quietly hissed. "Vanish. Now."

Sazar withdrew her hands but he could hear the challenge in her voice. "One of these days you�ll recognize my power, Malcolm. I�m not your toy."

Goodwill ignored her, walking toward the door and peering through the peephole. A skinny young brunette was standing there, wearing a threadbare green dress. Her hair was soaked from the morning rain.

"Harry? You in there?" she asked. She knocked again. "Let me in if you are. I�m drenched to the bone."

A girlfriend, Goodwill mused. There was always the chance she might know something. He�d have to silence her afterward, though. He couldn�t run the risk of her talking to the cops or telling anyone about the things he�d be quizzing her over. He cast one glance over his shouler to make sure that Sazar was invisible and then he opened the door, reaching out quickly to grab the girl and yank her inside. "Come in, my dear."

"Who are you?" she asked, staring at the ruined apartment in shock.

"I could ask the same of you."

"My name�s Doris. I�m Harry�s girlfriend."

"Then I�m sorry for your loss."

"What are you talking about? Where�s Harry?"

"My name is Malcolm Goodwill. Harry might have mentioned me. I�m his employer. Or was, to be precise."

"Why do you keep talking like that?" Doris suddenly put a hand over her mouth. "Has something happened to Harry?"

"He�s dead. I�d imagine if it were not already in the papers, it will be soon. He was cut up last night. Had more holes in him than a hunk of Swiss cheese."

"Oh my god." Doris looked as if she was about to cry but Goodwill tossed her onto the couch and her head seemed to clear. She looked around at the apartment, noticing how it had been rifled through. "What�s going on here?" she asked.

"Your boyfriend stole something from me. Eight pages from a very old book. I want them back. Do you know anything about them?"

"Harry wasn�t much for reading," Doris said, shaking he head. "I don�t know anything about� Oh." A strange expression passed over the girl�s face and Goodwill knew that she had just remembered something.

"Tell me!" he demanded, raising a hand as if to strike her.

Doris flinched and began to speak rapidly. "He said something about having seen somethin� that he shouldn�t have. Said that he was gonna do somethin� about it! That it was time to be a man. But he didn�t tell me any details! I swear it!"

"But you knew enough to know it had to do with my papers."

"Yeah. When he was telling me about it, I saw some old papers on his table. He�d bought a big envelope to put them in."

Goodwill narrowed his eyes. "Was he going to mail them to someone?"

"I don�t know. Honest!"

Goodwill turned away, seething internally. Had he misjudged Harry? Had the man not been so stupid as to hold onto the papers himself? He glanced back at Doris, catching her as she stared longingly at the door. She was going to either make a break for it or begin screaming soon. "Sazar," he said and Doris looked at him in confusion. "Feed."

The spectral form of a nude woman became visible at his side. Even Doris, as heterosexual as any girl could be, was forced to silently acknowledge the loveliness of Sazar�s form. But then Doris let her eyes travel up the long neck and settle on the horrific visage that was Sazar�s face. A scream died in her throat and Doris drew back as Sazar lunged for her.

Goodwill watched for a moment or two before looking out the window. The sounds of Sazar lapping at the girl�s spilling blood were nauseating.

Down below, he saw a black sedan pull to a halt in front of the building and two men emerge. One of them was very familiar to Goodwill, as he was to almost any citizen of Sovereign: Lazarus Gray, whose grim features were regularly depicted in newspaper photographs. As leader of Assistance Unlimited, Gray was a constant thorn in the side of the underworld.

Goodwill waited until Gray and Morgan had entered the building and then he yanked opened the window. The fire escape lay below and he nimbly swung his legs down onto it. The metal structure was slick from the morning rain but Goodwill held his balance well. Looking back into Harry�s apartment, he said, "Sazar, there�s two men coming up. When they get here, please take care of them and then come back to the house. Understood?"

Sazar looked up at him and grinned. Blood dripped from her chin in copious amounts and she allowed one hand to paw at the dead girl�s breast. Feeding always stirred her passions to dangerous levels. "I�ll devour their hearts," she swore.

Goodwill said nothing, descending the fire escape in silence. The arrival of Gray might be nothing more than coincidence but he didn�t really believe in chance. If Gray was here� and Harry had planned to send the pages to someone� then it all added together that he might have sent them to Assistance Unlimited. Everybody knew the group was housed on Robeson Avenue and Goodwill suddenly realized that if Gray were here, then the place might be abandoned for the moment.

Grinning, Goodwill moved to his car and slid behind the wheel. Perhaps, he mused, things might work out after all.

"So tell me again how you know it was Harry who sent us the papers?"

Lazarus Gray took the steps two at a time, forcing Morgan to hurry in his attempt to keep up. Morgan was a slender and fairly athletic man but he was in his forties and had enjoyed life to the fullest. His words were punctuated by gasps between nearly every word.

"I took the liberty of calling Sovereign Office Supply. Envelopes of that size aren�t particularly common. They remembered a man coming in a few days ago, wanting to purchase a single envelope. Most of the time, buyers purchase them in packs of 5-10. The man�s name was Harry Nance. The manager of Sovereign Office Supply knew him because Nance�s girlfriend worked at the diner next door."

"And now we�re gonna see if we can get him to talk?"

"I�m afraid it won�t be that easy." Gray reached into one of his pants pockets and pulled out the morning paper, which was rolled up. "I grabbed this on the way out of the office. Notice anything on the front page?"

Morgan slowed to a stop, grateful to have the opportunity to catch his breath. He saw only a few items of interest: The Monster, one of the leaders in the Sovereign underworld scene, was still Public Enemy Number One according to the police chief and an unidentified man was found hacked to death in the early hours of the morning. "I don�t get it," he admitted at last.

"I�m fairly certain that the dead man is Harry Nance." Morgan looked at his employer expectantly and Gray continued, "The murder took place down the block from a mail box. The postal stamp on the envelope shows that it was picked up at mail box # 5, which coincides with that street. I reason that he was murdered immediately after placing the envelope in the mail chute."

The two men resumed their trek upstairs, not taking much interest in the dingy surroundings. Harry had lived in one of the more squalid areas of town and the building stank of mildew and rat droppings. It was a far cry from the relative opulence of the Assistance Unlimited headquarters and reminded Morgan that it wasn�t so long ago that he was much like Harry Nance: a man down on his luck with no obvious prospects. A chance encounter with Lazarus Gray had caused him to reevaluate his position in life and he�d soon traded a life of crime for one of decency and hard work.

Gray stopped outside Harry Nance�s apartment, a strange look on his face. He held up a hand, indicating that he wanted silence from Morgan. He pointed to the dusty floor, where nearly a dozen footprints could be seen. One set, the most recent from the looks of them, belonged to a woman in heels.

Lazarus knelt in front of the keyhole and placed his eye up close. At first all he could see was a room in ruins, with papers and cushions overturned. But then he saw a red pool on the floor, along with the legs belonging to Doris. He stood up quickly and took a step back. He then threw his shoulder against the door, which popped open with a crash. Morgan had drawn his pistol as soon as he�d sensed Gray�s intentions and he followed his employer into the apartment, scanning for any signs of threat. He was the first to lay eyes upon Sazar. The demon was stepping toward him from his left, her arms outstretched. Her nude body immediately caught his gaze and held it but his eyes inevitably traveled up and his breath seized in his chest.

"Chief? We�ve got trouble," Morgan wheezed.

Gray, who had been moving to check on Doris, whirled about. His eyes widened at the sight before him and he immediately sprang into action. Sazar was hissing like a cat, one that was hungry for blood. Gray slammed into her, the impact crashing them both into the wall, shattering the plaster. Sazar craned her neck, trying to bury her fangs in his throat but he was able to hold her at bay with his mighty strength.

Morgan raised his gun but was too afraid of hitting Gray to pull the trigger. He moved closer, ready to take any opening that presented itself.

Sazar strained against Gray, her arms wrapping tightly around his torso. She squeezed with inhuman strength and even Gray, whose tolerance for pain bordered on the uncanny, was forced to grunt. "Let me taste you," she whispered. "It will only hurt for the first moment or two. And then you will shiver in pleasure. You will beg me to continue."

"I doubt that," Gray retorted, gritting his teeth as his ribs began to grind together. He brought his head back and then slammed his forehead into her face. Blood spurted from her nose and she howled in pain, clutching all the tighter. Gray was unaffected by the horrors of her face � though he remembered virtually nothing of his past before arriving in Sovereign, he was somehow sure that he�d seen worse than this in the past.

"I�m going to tear your heart out and rip it into chunks," the demon screamed.

Gray realized that she was unused to pain, having grown accustomed to inflicting it and not receiving. He took a chance by releasing his hold on her shoulders and instead grabbing her by the head. He drove his thumbs into her eyes and she howled like a banshee, tossing him away.

That gave Morgan his opportunity. He raised his gun and fired, sending all of his available shells into the demon�s body. She jerked repeatedly, thrashing about as blood flowed from her wounds. She raked the air with her claws and vanished, screaming inhuman obscenities at them both.

Morgan blinked. "Is she dead?"

"No. Something like her can�t be killed, only driven from this plane. She�ll slink away to heal her wounds." Gray examined Doris and frowned. "Dead."

Morgan knew there were few things in the world that his employer hated more than failing to save an innocent life. It didn�t matter that he�d had no inkling that this girl was in danger. Gray would still beat himself up over her demise.

Gray looked about them, his expression returning to its neutral state. "It looks like someone was hoping to find those papers here. That�s a good sign. Means they�re unaware that we have them."

"So now what?"

"We notify the authorities and have them pick up this poor girl�s remains. Then we head back to headquarters and plan our next move. With luck, Samantha and Eun will be returning at the same time."

Morgan placed his gun back into its holster and lowered his voice. "Chief, what was that thing?"

"A blood demon. They exist just outside our range of vision. There are only a dozen or so in existence but they�re old, far older than Man." Gray�s expression darkened. Morgan was certain he was mulling over the fact that he would be able to recall such information while simultaneously being unable to remember things about his own life.

"Life just gets stranger, doesn�t it?" Morgan whispered. Gray�s lips twisted in an almost-grin but it vanished so quickly that Morgan wasn�t sure if he had imagined seeing it.

"That it does," was all Lazarus said in reply.

Eun crouched on a tree limb overlooking Goodwill�s fenced property and he didn�t like what he saw. He climbed down to where Samantha was waiting for him and she could tell from the look on his face that something wasn�t right.

"Is Goodwill at home?" she asked.

"Didn�t see him. But there are men walking around in the yard, guarding the estate. And I saw several that were dressed as ninja."

"I don�t have the foggiest idea what that means," Samantha admitted.

"No reason why you should. Ninja were mercenaries back in feudal Japan. They specialized in assassination, espionage and sabotage. I didn�t know anyone still practiced their dark arts but with how strange Sovereign�s becoming, nothing should surprise me."

Samantha put her hands on her hips and thought things over. They were in an expensive neighborhood but in Sovereign that just meant the trash wore more expensive clothing. Even so, it was a heavily patrolled area by the police and despite the fact that all members of Assistance Unlimited held special privileges with law enforcement, she was in no hurry to attract any attention. "These ninja are deadly, I take it?"

"Assuming they�ve really undergone ninja training? Yes. Quite."

Samantha looked back at the fence. It was about ten feet high and cobblestone, which actually made climbing a bit easier. There were plenty of places for hands and feet to find purchase. "I say we go inside," she said at length.

Eun grinned, admiring her spirit. They were the two youngest members of Assistance Unlimited but they rarely spent much time together. Eun was a private man with a lot of anger in his heart. As such, he actually found it easier to work along Lazarus, who rarely pushed or prodded him on an emotional level. But that didn�t mean that he didn�t love Samantha and Morgan. They were all part of the Assistance Unlimited family, despite their differences in methods. "Last one over is a rotten egg."

Samantha arched an eyebrow. "Are you challenging me?"

"Are you afraid of losing?"

"Oh!" Samantha stifled a laugh. "You�re on." The slender girl kicked off her high heels and stuffed them into the small handbag she was carrying. She slipped the leather bag straps over her left arm and threw herself against the fence. She scrambled up like a monkey and threw herself over with abandon. She landed in a crouch, her skirt billowing about. She looked up triumphantly to see that Eun was already there, leaning against the fence.

"Sorry," he said with a shrug and a cocky grin. "I do believe you�re the rotten egg."

Samantha stood up and quickly put her shoes back on. "Scoundrel," she said teasingly.

The two of them grew quiet as one of the ninja rounded the corner. The black-garbed man didn�t see them and he stopped so that he was standing with his back to the house. He pulled away the cloth covering his face and Eun saw clearly that he was Japanese. As they watched in silence, they saw him take out a cigarette and light it. He had just begun to smoke it in earnest when Eun crept up next to him and put the barrel of his gun against the ninja�s head.

"Make a sound and I�ll kill you," Eun promised. It was something of a hollow threat since none of Assistance Unlimited killed unless it was absolutely necessary to save either his or her own life or someone else�s.

The ninja�s eyes widened as Samantha came into view. "The two of you are making a mistake," the ninja said with only the faintest hint of an accent. "Turn and leave now and you might get out of here alive."

Eun tapped a symbol on the black cloth. There was a circle surrounding a heart, with blood dripping below. "What does this mean?"

"We are Black Heart," the ninja said, obviously thinking that would be explanation enough.

"I�ve heard of them," Samantha said. "I didn�t know they were� ninjas or whatever you called them. They�re killers for the mob."

"We perform a needed function," the ninja retorted. He flicked his cigarette to the ground. "We do jobs for the mob but that doesn�t mean we work for them."

"Then whom do you work for?" Eun asked, pressing the gun harder against the man�s head. "Mr. Goodwill?"

The ninja struck quickly, driving an elbow up against Eun�s arm, knocking his gun hand toward the sky. The ninja kicked Eun in the stomach before turning on Samantha. From the look in his eyes, he obviously expected to make quick work of the girl.

Unfortunately for him, Samantha Grace was far more than she appeared. Raised by philanthropic parents who were willing to pay for any tutelage she desired, Samantha was a mistress of several forms of martial arts. She nimbly stepped aside when the ninja lunged for her, delivering a powerful chop to the back of his neck as he passed. She then finished him off, kicking him hard in the rump, knocking him headfirst into the tree where Eun had been perched only moments before.

Samantha held out a hand and helped Eun get back to his feet. "Hope you don�t mind that you were saved by a rotten egg."

Eun brushed himself off. "Not at all. Thank you."

The two of them peered around the corner and saw that they were momentarily in the clear. They sprinted across the yard and ducked inside a side door on the house. Once inside, they paused in a hallway, keeping their voices barely above a whisper.

"Now what?" Eun asked.

Samantha shrugged. Originally, they were supposed to nose around and look for clues about how Goodwill tied in to those papers. But given the number of Black Heart ninjas running around, it seemed that the man was involved in something dirty no matter what. She was about to say as much when they heard voices from a nearby room. She crept over and placed her ear against the door, confusion making her eyes widen. She recognized one of those voices but the impossibility made her doubt what she was hearing. She looked over at Eun and saw that he was watching her closely.

The first of the voices, which was unfamiliar to both of them, was speaking in hurried tones. "He�ll be back soon. If you�d just wait, I�m certain he�d want to speak to you."

"I don�t have time for that," the other man responded. It was this person that had evoked the frightened response in Samantha. He spoke with a German accent but he was quite fluent nonetheless. "Tell Mr. Goodwill that I want those papers and am willing to pay for them. This is not open to negotiation. If he tries to withhold them from me, I�ll kill him and everyone who stands at his side. Do you understand?"

"Yes, I�m quite clear on that."

"Good. Tell him I look forward to hearing from him soon."

Eun and Samantha flattened themselves against the wall, hiding as the door opened and the German emerged. He was dressed like an undertaker and he leaned heavily on a walking stick that was topped by a roaring lion�s head. His progress carried him away from the Assistance Unlimited agents but Samantha was certain that this was Walther Lunt, the cultist who had tried to work with the vile Doc Pemberley during the group�s most recent case. The right side of Lunt�s face was a ruined mass of flesh, scarred by an acid attack years before.

"That�s him," Samantha whispered when he�d vanished down the hall. "That�s the man who turned his cane into a lion. He tried to kill me!"

Eun frowned. "That doesn�t make sense. That cane�s back at headquarters. Besides, you said he was dead."

Samantha swallowed hard. "He is. I saw him die. Heck, I went with the Chief to drop his body off at the morgue. That�s how we found out his name. He�s a big muckity-muck in Berlin." Eun started to suggest that maybe the man had a twin but he fell into silence when Samantha grabbed him by the sleeve. "C�mon," she said, "Let�s follow him."

"What about Goodwill?"

"Forget him. This is far more important!" She locked eyes with Eun and leaned in close. "Remember, Lunt said he knew who the Chief was. If there�s any way we can help Lazarus find out about his past, we have to do it."

Eun considered it briefly and then nodded, following her in pursuit of Lunt. He�d been the first of the group to find out the truth about Gray�s amnesia and he knew how much it ate away at their employer. She was right: nothing was more important than finding out the truth.

Malcolm Goodwill stood outside 6196 Robeson Avenue and stared at the imposing black doors, adorned with only a single metal placard. The words "Assistance Unlimited" were embossed on its surface. A small buzzer was located beneath the sign and Goodwill considered it for only a second before he pressed it with one gloved hand.

A mechanical-sounding voice responded at once. "I�m sorry but all agents of Assistance Unlimited are currently away on missions. If you would like to leave a card with your name and number, you may slip it beneath the door and someone will get back to you as soon as possible. If this is a matter of life and death, please press the buzzer twice more: one long and one short."

Goodwill paused, both amused and perplexed. He�d spent a good twenty minutes wandering around the building and had no obvious means of entry. All the windows were barred and shuttered and the doors had a strange kind of lock on them that he�d never encountered before. The somewhat strange method of breaking in by ringing the doorbell had finally presented itself as the only possible thing to do. Now a mechanized voice was walking him through the process of getting inside? It was bizarre, indeed.

After pressing the buzzer twice, with one long and one short, Goodwill took a step back. The twin obsidian doors slid open quickly and the voice returned. Was it his imagination that it now contained a note of urgency?

"Please enter immediately. The doors will close behind you so make sure you have all companions and belongings with you."

Goodwill hesitated a moment, uncertain what he should do. Would he be trapped inside? In the end, he jumped inside, hoping that he�d be able to find his way back out when the time came.

He found himself in the large foyer that greeted all guests of Assistance Unlimited. As the doors hissed shut behind him, the locking mechanisms sliding into place with a loud clang, Goodwill approached the small receptionist desk that lay straight ahead. The building had once been a hotel and there were still a set of boxes behind what had once been the front clerk�s area, though there were no longer keys for each room. The mechanized voice returned, startling Goodwill. The man jumped and then immediately felt stupid for having done so.

"To your right you will find a small sitting area. Please wait there for someone to assist you. If you need medical assistance, please pick up the courtesy phone on the counter. It will dial a doctor who is on call 24 hours a day and they will be here within fifteen minutes."

Goodwill glanced about but was unable to pinpoint where the voice was emanating from. He tapped his fingers on the desk and frowned. This whole thing seemed absurd. What kind of security system allowed anyone inside, when all they had to do was lie about it being an emergency? And now he was being asked to sit still, when he had the freedom to wander through the entire complex? It certainly seemed that Lazarus Gray wasn�t the genius the papers made him out to be.

Goodwill spotted an elevator as well as a set of stairs. He took several steps toward them but came to a halt when he bumped into something hard and unyielding. He rubbed his nose while reaching out carefully, tracing it with his fingers. There appeared to be nothing there but upon close examination he found there were virtually invisible barriers all around, blocking access to anywhere but the foyer and the sitting room. Evidently, they had slid down from the ceiling when he�d entered the building.

Cursing, Goodwill reconsidered his earlier impression about Gray and his security. He drew out his handgun and pointed it toward one of the barriers. He pulled the trigger and immediately regretted the decision. The bullet ricocheted off of the barrier and narrowly missed embedding itself in Goodwill�s shoulder. It struck the wall behind him and flew back again and Goodwill fell to the floor, covering his head with his hands. The bullet continued whizzing back and forth for what seemed like an eternity before the room finally fell into silence.

Slowly rising back to his feet, Goodwill forced himself to take several deep breaths. He strode toward the front doors and pushed on them, only to find that his worst fears were confirmed: the doors were locked and no matter how hard he pushed, they refused to budge. The building was in sort of lockdown mode, triggered by his foolhardy decision to claim he was in the middle of an emergency.

For a moment, Goodwill gave over to his rising anger. He kicked and screamed like a petulant child, so caught up in the moment that he dropped the false British accent he usually used. In those moments, he spoke once again like the Pennsylvania boy that he truly was.

When he was done venting, Goodwill found himself thinking back to how this affair got started. The infamous Doc Pemberley had fearfully come calling at Goodwill�s front door a few weeks back, claiming that he�d narrowly escaped capture. He needed quick money, he�d said, and had offered Goodwill a number of interesting items in exchange for enough cash to get him into a new safe house. Goodwill had grown bored with the entire affair until Pemberley had brought out several ancient pieces of paper, claiming that they had been written by the devil himself. How Pemberley had acquired them had never been explained but Goodwill had felt something rush through him when he�d held those papers. He only had the barest familiarity with Latin but he could understand enough to know that these pages were priceless. Even if he wasn�t able to make them do the things that Pemberley claimed, he could sell them to collectors and make a fortune.

It was only after he�d summoned Sazar that he�d realized why Pemberley hadn�t used the spells for himself. There was a price to pay for magic like this: Sazar could kill him easily and would have no qualms about doing so. The only thing holding her in check was the words that bound her to his will.

Goodwill realized that he was in a very bad situation. If Gray or his aides caught him now, all his plans would fall apart. He�d planned to use Sazar to extort money from many of the most powerful men in the city. It had seemed like a good plan but all it had taken was one two-bit hood growing a conscience to upset everything.

"I�m hurting, Malcolm."

Goodwill spun about, eyes wide. It was Sazar. Her gorgeous body looked almost as bad as her face: she had bullet wounds all over her flesh and she was leaking buckets of blood. "What the hell happened to you? Gray did this?"

"Yes. I�m so weak." Sazar reached out for him, using his shoulders to steady herself. "I could barely find you, I�m so dizzy."

"Can you get us out of here? Take us back to my home?"

Sazar looked at him with blood-rimmed eyes. "I�m not sure. Traveling is hard for me. With you along, too�."

"Take me there and I�ll get you as many people to feed upon as you desire."

"I might need to feed before then."

Goodwill caught her meaning, noting the way her eyes lingered over the pulsing vein in his neck. He raised his voice commandingly, hoping she wouldn�t push the issue. If she did, he was done for. He didn�t remember the proper words to control her. "Sazar! I am ordering you to do this. Take us both home. Now."

Sazar mumbled ancient words under her breath. He didn�t understand them but their meaning was clear enough. She was growing tired of following his orders. She gripped him tightly against her naked bloody flesh. "I will do what I can," she hissed. "But in return, I want six strong men and three healthy women. Do you understand?"

Goodwill blinked. She�d always been sated after only one or two kills. Either she was as weak as she claimed or she was simply trying to see what she could get away with. "I�ll do it," he promised. "Just get me out of here."

Sazar closed her eyes and Goodwill immediately wished he had as well. They vanished from the Assistance Unlimited headquarters and momentarily entered Sazar�s home realm. Everything was made of dripping, shifting blood. There were mountains of the stuff, fountains of red running down rocky passages until they mingled in a flowing river of gore. There were things swimming in that stream, horrible things that made Sazar�s terrifying visage look beautiful in comparison. Goodwill tried to look away but found that he couldn�t. He could only stare and hope that his sanity wouldn�t give way.

As suddenly as it had begun, it was over. Sazar loosed her grip on him and fell to the carpeted floor of Goodwill�s study. Malcolm leaned heavily against the edge of his desk, trying to keep from vomiting. He kept attempting to banish the things he�d seen from his mind.

"I need to feed," Sazar whispered.

Goodwill thought about letting her starve but he quickly realized how foolish a thought that was. She�d rip him to shreds before that happened. "Martin! I need you!"

Goodwill�s butler rushed into the room, shock on his portly features. "Sir? How did you get inside?"

"No time for that now. She needs to feed. Six men and three women. Round them up, however you have to."

"So many?"

"Yes, damn it!"

Martin nodded and backed away from Sazar, who was looking at him with altogether too much interest. "Sir, a man came by, seeking the papers. He offered to pay for them but said he�d kill you if you refused. And one of our guards was attacked by an Oriental man and a blonde woman."

Goodwill guessed those two were agents of Gray. But the other� "Who was the man who wanted to buy the papers?"

"He said his name was Walther Lunt."

Goodwill shrugged, not recognizing the name. "If he comes back, we�ll let Sazar deal with him. Now go and get her something to eat."

Martin hurried from the room, leaving Goodwill to sit down heavily in his desk chair. He had no idea who this Lunt was � did he work with Gray? Or was he someone new? If it was the latter, how did he know about the papers?

"Pemberley," he hissed. The doctor must have told this Lunt about the papers. Probably they didn�t even belong to Pemberley in the first place. He might have stolen them from this German. "If I see you again, Pemberley, I�m going to cut your heart out."

Lazarus and Morgan were the first to return to their headquarters and it only took a cursory look at the front entrance to know that something was very wrong. The building was in full lockdown mode and could only be opened by a series of verbal commands known only to Gray and his aides.

The two men entered cautiously, expecting to find someone in near hysterics. That was the typical way they found people who used the life-or-death request to open the doors. When they found no one at all, Morgan stood in the middle of the foyer and scratched his head.

"What the heck? Where could they be?"

Gray knelt down and picked up a small bullet from the floor. From the way the tip was mangled, it was obvious that it had bounced off the semi-invisible walls several times. "Remember that we are dealing with the supernatural."

"You think they just walked through the walls?"

"The blood demon vanished right in front of our eyes, remember? It�s conceivable our guest may have done the same. We should check the camera footage."

Morgan followed his employer behind the old clerk�s desk. The room behind had a large television screen mounted on a table with several cables and tubes projecting out from the device. Gray had modified this particular television technology so that it could record the features of anyone who came to the front door. This footage was then archived, allowing Assistance Unlimited to build a detailed record of all their cases.

Gray was looking through the recorded data when Samantha and Eun burst into the room, both looking slightly out of breath. Morgan, who had been nursing a small glass of bourbon, stood up quickly.

"You two okay?"

Samantha looked at Gray, who remained intent on the screen. "Chief, we saw Walther Lunt. He�s alive. He was at Goodwill�s place and he said he was going to kill Goodwill unless he sold him those papers."

Gray nodded but said nothing.

"Didn�t you hear me?" Samantha asked, her voice raising an octave. "He�s supposed to be dead!"

Gray turned his mismatched eyes on her and sighed. "His body vanished from the morgue less than 48 hours after we left it there. I had assumed that members of his cult had taken it for their own purposes. They may have revived him."

"You�re talking about resurrecting the dead," Eun whispered.

Samantha crossed her arms over her chest, anger flashing in her eyes. "I�ve had enough of this."

Morgan raised his eyebrows, amazed that Samantha would speak to the Chief like that. Nobody was brave enough to use that tone with him. Nobody aside from a pretty young blonde who couldn�t have weighed more than a hundred pounds, it seemed.

Gray�s entire body was oriented toward her now. "Please explain."

"That German tried to kill me. He threw a lion at me!" She emphasized those words to such an extent that they seemed like a verbal slap in the small room. "You�re telling me that you knew he might still be alive, or resurrected, or whatever. And you never mentioned it to us? Did I ever tell you how much it hurt to find out that you�d been keeping it from us that you were an amnesiac? I thought we were more than just your employees � I thought we were friends and maybe even some kind of family. But that�s obviously not the case if you�re going to continue keeping secrets from us. Well, I�m not putting up with it anymore. You either start treating us with some actual respect or I�m leaving."

The silence that descended upon the room after that pronouncement was shocking in its totality. No one was even breathing, it seemed.

Gray�s face remained impassive but there was a flicker of emotion in his eyes that weakened Samantha�s anger somewhat. Though he often came across as a stoic and somewhat robotic individual, Samantha had always sensed a well of sadness within her employer. Now she felt regret for her harsh tone. "You�re right, Samantha. I apologize."

Morgan blinked in surprise. "You do?"

"Of course. She�s absolutely correct. I trust all of you with my life; I should trust you with all my information as well. I don�t keep secrets from you out of maliciousness. It�s second nature to me, I�m afraid. Whatever life I led before arriving here in Sovereign, it was one in which duplicity was quite common. I find myself lying all too easily and keeping information close to the vest is a part of that."

Samantha relaxed her body. "I�m sorry, Chief. I didn�t mean to-"

"No, you don�t have to apologize. Like I said, I�m the one at fault. I�ll try to do better in the future but I ask that all of you be understanding that being open and sharing doesn�t come naturally to me."

"We�ve all got trust issues," Morgan said. "Heck, for most of my life, I could have been killed for spilling the beans when I wasn�t supposed to so I understand where you�re coming from. It�s hard to get away from that."

Gray nodded, considering Morgan�s words. To Samantha, he asked, "So you�re going to stay?"

"Of course. I wouldn�t really have left."

"Good." Gray turned and pointed at the screen. A crisp black-and-white image showed the man who had entered the building. He was well dressed and very tall. "That, my friends, is Mr. Malcolm Goodwill."

Eun grunted in annoyance. "There goes any lingering doubt about his involvement in all this."

"I guess you were right, Chief," Morgan muttered. "He must have had that demon come and rescue him."

Gray nodded, staring at the image on the screen. "He came here to get those papers back, which meant he was taking an incredible risk. I think it�s safe to say that a man so desperate to have something wouldn�t be able to turn down an invitation to get them back."

"What are you thinking?" Eun asked.

Gray said nothing, instead choosing to walk over to a nearby phone. He picked it up and quickly dialed Goodwill�s number. Behind his back, his three aides exchanged smirks. Despite his best intentions, Gray simply couldn�t keep from milking the dramatics from any moment.

"Mr. Goodwill, please. Tell him it�s Lazarus Gray holding for him." Gray faced his aides and placed a hand over the mouthpiece of the phone. "If he wants the papers so badly, we�ll simply give them to him." Samantha let out a little gasp but all three of his aides fell silent as Gray resumed speaking into the phone. "I�m impressed that you were able to escape the Assistance Unlimited Headquarters. It definitely shows that you�re a man of great power. So great that we would like to bring about a truce of sorts. We have the papers that once belonged to your man but we have no interest in retaining them. We�re willing to pass them on to you in return for a small fee reimbursing us for our trouble. Whatever you think they�re worth. We can meet at the old Trembley Coal Plant on Skiver Way. Within the hour, yes." Gray hung up the phone and nodded smartly to his aides. "Everyone get ready. I�d anticipate Mr. Goodwill being quite treacherous so we should respond in kind."

Walther Lunt sat in front of the fireplace, stirring the embers with a poker. The ruined side of his face ached today, as it always did when rain was on the way. It was an odd affliction. He�d heard of men and women whose arthritis worsened when storms were looming but ravaged acid burns? It had to be a first. "We should leave soon. We�re supposed to be on the other side of town in half an hour."

The woman seated near him crossed her stocking-encased legs, knowing that the movement would catch his interest. Lunt was a lecherous sort and Miya Shimada was attractive enough to keep him in perpetual arousal. A Japanese-American, Miya had shoulder-length black hair that shimmered in the sunlight. Her body was the perfect mixture of the two races that made up her ethnic background: the slim features of the Japanese melded with the hips and breasts of a Western woman. "We can leave when you�ve finished your drink. I have to say, you�re looking much better than you did when I first saw you," Miya said teasingly.

Walther grunted in acceptance of that. "I owe you my life. Or, rather, my second life."

"Our masters aren�t done with you," Miya pointed out. "That�s why they dispatched me to resurrect you. In the end, all of us are but pieces on their grand chess board."

Walther picked up a glass of cognac from the table in front of him and he sipped it in silence. When he finally spoke again, his words were so low that Miya had to strain to hear them. "Have you found out anything useful?"

Miya looked around their shared hotel room and pursed her ruby red lips. Walther had been hopeful that they�d become lovers but Miya hadn�t allowed that to happen. They were living here under the pretext of being husband and wife to throw off any who might be looking for them but she harbored no romantic feelings toward him. It wasn�t just because of his face, either. There was only one man who had ever tasted the pleasures of her flesh. He had been the first in her entire life that had seemed to be her intellectual and sexual equal. "Nothing that you didn�t already know. He arrived out of the blue in 1933 and immediately made a name for himself. He first came to the attention of the press when he involved himself in the kidnapping of Arthur Lingold�s baby. The entire country was riveted by the case since Lingold�s exploits as a pilot had won him so much acclaim. And now his infant son was missing, with only a bizarre ransom note left at the scene. Lazarus Gray managed to find the child and bring those responsible to justice. From there, it�s been one success after another. His agency, Assistance Unlimited, is considered the last hope for those who have nowhere else to turn. He�s considered quite the hero."

Miya realized that Lunt was staring at her over the rim of his glass. "The way you speak of him," the German said. "It�s clear you still harbor feelings for the man."

"He�s hard to forget," Miya admitted.

"Sad that he can�t say the same for you. Apparently, he remembers virtually nothing."

"That can be a blessing in some ways," Miya countered. "How is he to know the difference between the true past and a fiction?"

"What are you planning?"

Miya stood up, her body moving enticingly beneath her dress. "I seduced him once before. Why shouldn�t I be able to do it again?"

"What if seeing you again sparks his memory? The last thing we need is for him to remember who he really is. Or who we really are, for that matter."

Something dark and malevolent flashed in Miya�s eyes. "If he doesn�t accept the way things have to be, then I�ll just have to kill him. Again."

"It�s suicide."

Goodwill looked over at the Black Heart ninja who had spoken. The man was one of the group�s leaders but it was still rare for him to openly challenge Goodwill�s decisions. After looking around at the other ninja who stood watching, Goodwill asked, "Would you care to explain that?"

"You want us to lie in wait while you approach Assistance Unlimited with only that� thing� at your side? You could be cut down long before we could respond. Take us with you."

"I�m not looking for a fight. Not right now. I need those papers." Goodwill glanced over at Sazar, who was watching them with all the disinterest of a bored cat. She was toying with her nakedness, raking her fingernails over her flat belly and across her nipples, making them stand up in sharp little points. She was successfully distracting many of the ninja, but not their leader, nor Goodwill.

"But surely you don�t expect them to hand them over. That is not the way of Lazarus Gray or his men."

"Yes. That�s why I�ll have Sazar with me. She�ll be invisible and ready to strike at a moment�s notice. Assistance Unlimited may be capable of handling normal men like yours but they won�t be able to handle her."

The ninja�s eyes were the only part of his face left visible but they flashed with anger. "They nearly killed her the last time, didn�t they?"

Sazar hissed and moved forward but Goodwill held up a hand and she stepped back, though she looked like she might ignore him at a moment�s notice. "I appreciate the fact that you believe in your men so much," Goodwill said. "That confidence makes you one of my best assets. But the discussion is over. Do you understand?"

The man nodded and bowed. "As you say."

Goodwill waited until all the ninja had left the room, heading toward the vehicles that would transport them to the old coal factory. There they�d take up positions all around the property, hidden out of sight.

"Why didn�t you tell them about Walther Lunt?" Sazar asked.

Goodwill turned toward her, keeping his eyes on her breasts. They were so much nicer to look at than her face. He had called Walther Lunt and asked him to meet him at the coal factory immediately after getting off the phone with Gray. Sazar had been with him when he�d made the call but he�d deliberately made sure that none of the Black Heart knew about it. "Because I think the time�s come for me to abandon Sovereign City and I�m going to need a lot of cover to make that happen. When Lunt arrives, I�m expecting all hell to break loose. That�s when you and I take off. We�ll leave my ninja to fight both Assistance Unlimited and Lunt�s men."

"After you�ve gotten the papers back," she whispered.

"Yes."

Sazar slid around in front of him, undulating her hips like a serpent. "You don�t remember the spells, do you? That�s why you�re so desperate to get the papers."

Goodwill tried to retain his bravado but some of his willpower began to wilt. She knew he was helpless now. "I remember enough to bind you," he bluffed.

Sazar laughed throatily. "You amuse me, Malcolm. For that reason � and because I�ve fed recently � I won�t kill you. But don�t think that you�re my master any longer. I can come and go as I please."

Goodwill cleared his throat and moved around her. "Let�s get going, shall we?"

Lazarus Gray and his people were the first to arrive. He had chosen this site for several reasons: first and foremost, it had been abandoned for years, meaning it was unlikely that any innocents would be hurt. Second, Gray owned it, meaning any collateral damage that occurred would only cost him and not anyone else. Finally, he had set up the old factory as an emergency base for Assistance Unlimited, meaning that it had a stash of weapons and equipment hidden around the property.

Gray had Samantha stand with him in the large parking area, which had a gravel surface. It was here that he planned to make the proposed exchange. Morgan was perched on the second floor of the nearby factory building, where he was waiting with a high-powered rifle. Eun was hiding behind some old mining equipment, ready to explode onto the scene if required.

Five minutes before the agreed-upon meeting time, the Black Heart ninjas arrived. Eun spotted them first, watching with amusement as nearly a dozen of the men spread out, hiding behind any cover they could find. They must have parked their vehicles a mile or so away and come the rest of the distance on foot. He did nothing, though, remembering the plan. When one of the ninja tried to take his spot for his own, however, he quietly took the man by surprise, snapping his neck with a move so exquisite that few on the planet could have matched it. Of course, one of those men was his employer.

The next to arrive was Goodwill, who drove himself in a small roadster. He parked thirty feet away from Gray, who stood with the papers clasped in his hands. Goodwill emerged from the vehicle and looked around in dramatic fashion. He smiled at Lazarus and took several steps toward him. "I confess, I�m surprised to see you here. I�d thought you were leading me into a trap."

"And yet you still came," Samantha said.

"Yes," Goodwill responded, frowning. He obviously didn�t appreciate having one of Gray�s underlings answering him. "So, Lazarus. I�ve brought you enough money to cover the transfer." Goodwill reached into the pocket of his slacks and Morgan tensed above. When Goodwill�s hand emerged holding a wad of bills taped together, Morgan�s finger relaxed on the trigger but he still remained ready to fire if need be.

Gray caught the money when Goodwill tossed it to him. Without even bothering to count it, he handed the bills to Samantha. "I must warn you, Mr. Goodwill, you�re dealing with things best left alone." He held up the pages and his already grim face turned even darker. "You risk not only your life but your immortal soul."

"I appreciate the concern," Goodwill answered, still using his faux British accent. "Now may I have my papers back?"

"Why did you kill the young woman we found in Nance�s apartment?"

"Because she knew too much." Goodwill extended his left hand. "The papers, Lazarus. Now."

"Of course." Lazarus took several steps forward and pushed them into Goodwill�s hand. Before the transfer was fully complete, he stared into Goodwill�s eyes and said a series of words that sounded like gibberish, unless you knew that they were the ancient tongue of the demon world.

Goodwill�s eyes opened wide, for he did recognize them. They were the words he�d not been able to remember, the words that bound the demon to whomever spoke them.

Sazar suddenly became visible, standing just to the left of Goodwill. She stared at Gray with mounting interest, wondering what he would order her to do. Now that the spell had been spoken, she was his to command.

"Blood demon," Gray said loudly, "capture him � but do not kill him!"

Goodwill snarled, spinning away from Sazar. He held the papers in his hand � if he could just have the time to read the words on them, he could try to wrest control of her from Gray. Or banish her, if need be. But before he got more than three steps away, Sazar was on, throwing him to the ground and crouching over his chest. Her mouth was open near his neck, close enough that he could feel the heat of her breath and feel the spittle that dripped from her tongue. "No! Please!" he whispered.

At that moment, the Black Heart ninja sprang into action. They had held off, waiting for a signal from Goodwill, but now it appeared that he was in no position to summon them. They rushed forward, leaping and spinning impressively. Their swords flashed in the murky Sovereign sunlight. Eun moved into view, clashing with several, but it was Morgan who did the most damage. From his vantage point, he was able to pick them off at will, pausing only long enough to reload his rifle. During the bloodshed, Gray remained exactly where he�d started out, though he now had Samantha clinging to him. The girl buried her face in his shoulder, averting her eyes from the mayhem. The Black Heart assassins died in droves, bullets riddling their bodies, save for the few that Eun killed by hand.

When the sounds of gunfire had faded, Gray ordered Sazar to step away. She did so but was obviously hungering for a taste of Goodwill�s blood. Now that all remnants of his hold over her had faded, she saw Goodwill as nothing more than food.

Goodwill rose to his knees, looking up at Gray in astonishment. "You�re not human, are you? You�re just as much of a demon as she is. Nobody human could stand there and be so calm."

"I�m as human as you," Gray responded. "But I�ve chosen to live my life with meaning. For those who traffic in death, there is only more death. But those who live for others will find a richer meaning."

"How trite," Goodwill said with a laugh. "You don�t really believe that, do you?"

"I do. It�s a lesson that Harry Nance learned at the end. That�s why he risked his life to make sure that someone learned what you were up to."

Goodwill glanced over at Sazar. "Kill me if you want but don�t let her do it. Please."

"I don�t plan to kill you at all. I�m going to turn you over to the authorities. But before I do, I want answers. What do you know about Walther Lunt?"

"Not much. He wanted to buy these papers. That�s it."

Gray looked disappointed and Samantha knew that he was more troubled by Lunt�s resurrection than he�d let on. She could sympathize � here was an actual piece of his past and he couldn�t make sense of it.

At that moment a crack rang out and Goodwill�s body lurched to the side. Blood sprayed from his head and Samantha instinctively looked up at Morgan, thinking he had fired the deadly shot. Gray, however, knew that someone else had been behind the blast. He pushed Samantha behind him and drew his own handgun, looking in the direction of the shot.

There he saw him, standing beside a black sedan. The German held a Mauser in one hand and his walking stick in the other. It was Walther Lunt, who gave a mocking salute before sitting back behind the wheel.

Eun sprinted up beside his employer. "Should I?" he began but Lazarus shook his head.

"You�d never make it in time," Gray muttered as Lunt spun his vehicle away from them, kicking up gravel as he did so. "All you�d do is get yourself shot."

"Why did he kill him?" Samantha wondered. "Goodwill didn�t know anything about him."

"Maybe he was angry over not getting the papers," Eun suggested.

Gray said nothing, not even when Sazar lunged on Goodwill�s bleeding corpse, lapping it lustily. He knew the real reason why Lunt had done it: because there was something dark and cold inside Lunt�s soul and he wanted Gray to know that he could have done that very same thing to Samantha or Eun or Morgan. It was a taunt, the proverbial �you can�t stop me.�

"Chief? You gonna get rid of her?"

Gray glanced at Morgan and then at Sazar. "Yes. You�re right." He walked forward and repeated the rest of the spell, this time banishing her from this plane. Unlike Goodwill, his sharp mind allowed him to remember such details. The blood demon howled in disappointment but she vanished in a puff of dark-tinged smoke, leaving the odor of brimstone in her wake.

Gray bent down and plucked up the missing pages from the Codex Gigas. "So much death, all over these." He quickly ripped them to shreds, tossing the remains into the air, where they were quickly snatched up by the wind and carried away.

"Those were priceless," Samantha reminded him. "Shouldn�t we have turned them into a museum or something?"

"They were created by the devil," Gray retorted. When he stood up, Samantha shrank away from the fury in his mismatched eyes. It didn�t reach his features, which remained unmoved, making it all the worse. "When we find things like that, we have to destroy them. No matter the cost."

"Sure, Chief," Morgan said. "We got it."

Gray nodded, walking away from them. He felt like this case had gone awry. They had accomplished nothing, save for destroying the cursed papers. Lunt was still free, as was Pemberley. Harry Nance and his girlfriend were both dead. It left a sour taste in his mouth but it did solidify his desire to see things through to the end. He would not rest until the monsters of the world were slain and the truth about his past had been laid bare.

No matter the cost.

Miya Shimada sat silently in the passenger seat while Lunt drove back to their rooms. She had hidden out of sight during their confrontation, knowing that it wasn�t quite time for her to confront her former lover. She had managed to sneak a peek at him and she was reminded again of all that she�d found so intoxicating about him in the past: his determination, his well-formed physique and his smoldering eyes. They were almost enough to make a corrupted woman believe in redemption.

Almost.

A smile touched her lips and she whispered to herself, "Lazarus Gray." She repeated the name a few more times, as if tasting it. "I wonder what you�ll do when you find out about yourself."

She laughed then, startling Lunt, who looked at her as if she were insane. She sat back in her seat and closed her eyes, imagining the days to come. She wasn�t sure how it would resolve itself but she knew that it was going to be fascinating to watch.

"God is dead."

Samantha Grace shifted uncomfortably, casting a nervous glance at Morgan Watts, who sat beside her. They were the only members of Assistance Unlimited at headquarters, so it had been they who had been tasked with interviewing the young woman who had come to their door, seeking help. No one came to Assistance Unlimited unless they had exhausted all other means of aid, for Lazarus Gray and his followers were as feared as they were loved. This wasn�t because any member of Assistance Unlimited cultivated an aura of fear; it was simply a result of Sovereign City�s innate nature. The city was as corrupt as any in the United States and even good-hearted people tended to be distrustful of anyone who seemed to operate out of a spirit of altruism, as Gray and his people did. When everyone seemed corrupt, the virtuous were regarded with suspicion.

"Could you repeat that, Ma�am?" Morgan asked, leaning forward. He was forty-two years old and pencil-thin. As always, he was dressed in a black suit and tie, his fedora hat resting on the tabletop next to his right hand. His dark hair was slicked back and his moustache waxed.

The young woman in white visibly composed herself before continuing. She looked a few years older than Samantha, which put her somewhere in her mid-twenties. With dark hair, dusky complexion and large, liquid eyes, she was in stark contrast with Samantha, who had golden blonde hair, blue eyes and a peaches-and-cream skin color. The lady in white had the air about her of a woman used to getting her way. She had not been pleased to learn that Lazarus Gray was away on business, meaning that she�d have to reveal her private affairs to his employees. "I told you: God is dead. That�s what the corpse said."

"That�s what I thought you said," Morgan muttered. "Think you could back up and start over? So far, what you�re saying isn�t making a whole lot of sense."

The woman sighed loudly and closed her eyes for several seconds, obviously trying to steel herself for what was to come. "I�m sorry. I�m not normally so cross."

Morgan somehow doubted that but he forced a smile. "It�s okay. We�re used to it. People come to see us in all sorts of states."

"I�m sure," she answered. "My name is Lorraine Mitchell. My husband was President of the Sovereign People�s Bank. You probably heard about his death. It was in all the papers two weeks ago. He had a heart attack in his study in the middle of the night. I was sleeping at the time and was awoken by a terrible, bloodcurdling scream. I sat bolt upright in my bed and looked at the clock. I distinctly remember that it was exactly midnight."

"It must have been terrible finding your husband�s body like that," Samantha said, trying to be comforting.

The withering stare she got in return silenced her immediately. Morgan could sense that Mrs. Mitchell didn�t care much for Samantha and he wondered why. Then again, some beautiful women simply had it in for other gorgeous dames, he mused. There could only be so many Queen Bees in some women�s lives, after all. "I suppose it was," Lorraine answered. "Though my husband and I had a marriage of convenience. It was based out of mutual need, not love."

"How so?" Samantha asked, dispensing with pleasantries. Her tone was now clipped and much more formal. It was the exact same tone she�d been using with Morgan lately. He�d invited her to see a film with him not long ago, swearing it was simply one friend wanting to spend time with another. But things had gone so well that he�d tried putting the moves on her afterward, leaning in to steal a kiss after the show. He was pretty sure he could still feel the sting of her slap to his face.

"My husband inherited his position at the bank but his father was adamant that he find financial security on his own. As such, my husband was given a job but he wasn�t able to touch a penny of his family�s fortune. He tried to turn his salary into something more substantial in the stock market but as we all know, that�s not nearly as easy now as it was back in the Twenties. Eventually, he came up with an easier route to financial success: he married me. I�m quite wealthy and my husband found my checkbook just as desirable as the swish of my hips."

"And what did you get out of the� partnership?" Samantha inquired.

"I�ve never been one for romance, Miss Grace. I planned to have children someday and I wanted them to have plenty of opportunities. My husband�s family name would have provided those in spades. Unfortunately, he died without giving me a child. It was just like him. He wasn�t much of a success at anything, really." Lorraine opened her purse, taking out a cigarette. "Do you mind if I smoke?"

Morgan retrieved a set of matches from the inner pocket of his jacket. He lit her cigarette and she took a few puffs before continuing.

"One of my husband�s favorite ways of spending my money was visiting Europe. He cultivated a lot of friendships over there, especially in England. I think it made him feel very Continental." Lorraine chuckled coldly. "When he came back from his last trip, he�d brought back a trophy. He said it was for me but I knew better. What would I want with a moldy old corpse wrapped up in bandages?"

Samantha reached down and smoothed out the folds of her skirt. She was aware of Morgan watching her movements and she tried to ignore it. She was still a bit angry over their evening out together, though most of her anger was actually directed at herself. She shouldn�t have put herself in that position, nor should she have laughed so hard at his jokes. She�d encouraged him and even though he was handsome and intelligent, they were coworkers. She couldn�t jeopardize her position with Assistance Unlimited over a romantic fling. Clearing her throat, she asked, "Where did he manage to acquire a mummy?"

Lorraine waved her cigarette dismissively. "Oh, owning a mummy was all the rage in England a few decades back. Anyone who was anyone had at least one of the little Egyptians propped against the study room wall. They�d have unwrapping parties, where the owners could show them off to their friends. Ghastly, if you ask me. Anyway, my husband had a friend over there � a Mr. Garmont, I believe � who was in possession of three of the things. They were just stacked up like cordwood in the attic. Well, my husband fell in love upon seeing them. He simply had to have one. So he bought her and brought her back."

"Her?" Morgan asked.

"Yes. Garmont told him some cock and bull story about the mummy having once been a princess of some sort. He insisted we call her Femi around the house. The thing stank like old linen and formaldehyde. He was in the room with it when he died, which wasn�t a surprise. He spent most nights in the study with her."

Morgan tapped his fingers on the tabletop thoughtfully. "And at what point did the mummy speak to you?"

"Exactly three days after my husband�s death. It was the day of his funeral and I was restless that evening so I couldn�t sleep. I wandered around our home nursing a bottle of scotch until I ended up in the study. I happened to glance at the time and noticed it was 11:59. I had just sat down at his old desk when the clock struck twelve� and the mummy began to move. I was terrified, I�ll tell you that. The little bitch turned her head and looked right at me and I swear to you that I wasn�t drunk enough to have imagined that. She looked right at me and screamed. It was an awful sound, like someone was witnessing something so horrible that they couldn�t bear it." Lorraine�s fingers began to tremble and her cigarette dropped ash onto her white dress. She brushed it away and licked her lips nervously. "When the screaming was finished, it told me, �God is dead.�"

"And has this happened to you since?"

"Every three nights, like clockwork. The only differences have been slight. The second time it happened, she raised and arm and pointed at me. The third time, she took two steps in my direction. Every time she screams, she gets closer to being animate again. I think she killed my husband. I don�t know if it was intentional or not, but she caused the heart attack that killed him. I�m sure of it."

Morgan looked at their client through narrow eyes. "And the mummy spoke to you in English?"

Lorraine paused, as if the implications of that hadn�t occurred to her. "Well, yes."

Samantha nudged her partner. "Doesn�t mean anything. If a mummy really can come back to life, that�s more amazing than it being able to speak English."

Morgan had to agree with that. They�d both seen things that defied description, which meant you couldn�t discount anything.

"When is it supposed to happen again?" Samantha wanted to know.

Lorraine looked very pale. "Tonight. She screams again tonight. That�s why I came here. I want to hire Lazarus Gray to be there. To protect me. To tell me I�m not insane. And, maybe, to kill her."

"I�m willing to do that," Lazarus Gray said. All eyes turned toward the man who stood in the doorway. How long he�d been there, no one was sure. He sometimes moved with the stealth of a jungle cat, soundlessly coming and going. He was a well-built man with gray-streaked brown hair, making him look older than he was. His eyes were piercing and mismatched: one eye was a startling emerald, the other a dull brown. He wore a dark suit and tie but there was something primal about him, something that suggested he would be just as much at home in a loincloth. "But before we come over tonight, there are a few things that must be done."

Morgan rose, smiling. "Chief! Boy, am I glad you�re here! Did you hear everything?"

"Enough." Gray nodded at Samantha. "Please make a transatlantic call to this Mr. Garmont. Find out the history of this mummy and if anything unusual occurred with it in the past. Morgan, I want you to go upstairs and get Eun. I believe he�s about to start filing the papers from the case I was just on. Tell him to set those aside and go with you to the Sovereign People�s Bank. Tell him to find out if Mr. Mitchell had a safety deposit box. He needs to get access to it."

"My husband didn�t have anything like that. If he had, I�m sure his father would have given me the key at the funeral."

"Perhaps." Gray favored Lorraine with the briefest of smiles but the expression didn�t reach his eyes, which remained cold and determined. "I will need you to authorize something for me, Mrs. Mitchell. I�m going to need to see your husband�s body and confirm that there was no foul play involved."

Lorraine�s lips became a hard, thin line. "My husband�s buried in the ground."

"Yes. But if you give permission, I can pull a few strings and have him exhumed immediately."

With a shaky voice, Lorraine whispered, "Whatever you think is needed, Mr. Gray."

"Good. I�ll help you with the appropriate paperwork. Morgan, please escort Mrs. Mitchell back to her home. Examine this mummy while you�re waiting for us. Make sure that it�s what it looks like and that no one is playing a cruel trick on our client." Gray nodded crisply, energized by the mystery before him. "Let�s get to work. We only have about twelve hours before the corpse screams again."

Eun Jiwon stepped into the bank, well aware of the stares he received. He was smartly dressed in a black suit and tie but his Korean features made him stand out. He had come here a few times when his parents were alive and he remembered the shame he�d felt when his father had begged for an extension on his loan. The flames of anger never truly died, he realized. They just dimmed to flickering embers, ready to reignite at the proper moment.

"Can I help you?" asked one of the bank�s employees. He was an older man with silver hair and thick glasses. He regarded Eun with curiosity but not outright distrust like so many others did. A small nametag placed over his heart indicated that his name was John Mitchell.

"I work with Assistance Unlimited." Eun held out a small business card with the group�s address and logo printed on it. The logo showed an open hand, palm up, with the words Assistance Unlimited printed across it. Beneath these were the address 6196 Robeson Avenue and a telephone number. "We�re currently investigating a matter concerning Lorraine Mitchell and I�d like to have access to her husband�s safety deposit box."

John Mitchell�s face fell and his eyes became guarded. "That would be my son you�re talking about. What kind of case are you working on regarding my daughter-in-law?"

"That�s private, I�m afraid."

"So is my son�s safety deposit box."

"So there is one? Mrs. Mitchell indicated that she didn�t think there was, since you hadn�t given her access to it upon your son�s death." Eun held his ground, even as John Mitchell�s demeanor became darker.

John glanced around at the other customers and employees, many of whom were watching them. He lowered his voice and took Eun by the elbow, steering him toward the vault. "My son kept a box. All of us do. Sometimes we keep things of personal or business importance in them. A lot of times, it�s not things we�d like for our wives to see."

"Is that the kinds of things in his box?"

"I don�t know. I have no clue what�s in there. But when he died, I couldn�t bring myself to look inside. It�s still too soon. My son was a disappointment to me in many ways but I loved him. When Lorraine didn�t ask about the box, I assumed he hadn�t told her about it. And if he hadn�t told her about it, then there was some reason as to why."

Eun nodded. "I understand. I promise to use discretion. Unless it�s pertinent to our case, I won�t share the details of anything I see with Mrs. Mitchell."

"I would appreciate that. Keep in mind that the only reason I�m doing this at all is because of who your employer is. That man�s done a lot of good in this town and Lord knows we need more people like him." John gestured for a guard to open up the room containing the safety deposit boxes and he led Eun inside, closing the door behind them. He walked straight toward one of the boxes and placed it on the room�s single table. After fishing out a master key from an inside pocket on his jacket, he opened the box and pushed it toward Eun. "I do hope my daughter-in-law isn�t in any kind of danger."

"That�s what we�re trying to find out," Eun admitted. He peered inside the box, finding several envelopes of varying sizes. He peered into several of them, finding handwritten notes and erotic French postcards. From the feminine scent on several of the notes, Eun guessed that Mr. Mitchell had at least one woman on the side, perhaps more. He also found nearly three thousand dollars in cash and a small handgun. All in all, it was rather typical stuff for a man who was living a double life.

But it was the contents of a small manila envelope stuffed at the bottom of the box that caused Eun to pause. There was a necklace of some kind inside, one with a gold chain and a small seven-pointed star pendant. The pendant was lined with tiny diamonds, causing it to glitter brightly in the light. It was very old and Eun knew that it was probably priceless. On the back of the pendant were a series of minuscule hieroglyphics.

John Mitchell stood a few feet away, obviously unwilling to look into the box himself. Perhaps, Eun mused, he was afraid to find out what his son might have been involved in. "Did you find anything?"

Eun held up the necklace. "Have you ever seen this before?"

"No, I haven�t." John moved forward, staring at the pendant. "I know he recently purchased a mummy. I wonder if that came with it?"

Eun dropped the necklace into a pocket and pushed the box back toward Mr. Mitchell. "I�ll take it with me so Lazarus can look at it. If it turns out that it�s not related, I�ll see that it�s returned here."

"Can�t you tell me what�s going on?"

Hesitating, Eun considered opening up to the man. It was obvious that despite whatever problems he might have had with his son, he did love him and that extended to his widow as well. Lazarus hadn�t specifically told him to hold his cards close to the vest but Eun knew what his employer would do in this situation and he elected to follow suit. "I�m sorry. Rest assured that we�re doing all that we can."

Eun spun about and exited the room, aware of the necklace�s weight in his pocket. It was far heavier than he would have expected. Somehow, this was tied into the mystery of the mummy and he was willing to bet that Lazarus would be able to figure out how.

Samantha tried to not feel slighted as she waited for the transatlantic call to go through. Every member of the Assistance Unlimited squad was given equal preference when it came to the jobs they performed and this sometimes meant getting stuck with nothing more exciting than talking to someone on the phone. Samantha knew it was an important task but she still ached to be out in the field, where the danger truly lay. It wasn�t that she was addicted to the excitement, but she certainly enjoyed the rush that came with surviving a near fatal encounter.

Of all four of them, she was the only one with family still living. Eun�s parents had been murdered, Morgan�s were long gone and Lazarus� well, poor Lazarus wouldn�t have known if he had a wife and kids somewhere. His memory of his life before waking up in Sovereign City was a jumble of confusing images and sounds. It sounded awful to Samantha and she often wondered how lonely he must be.

She sighed, trying to talk herself away from this line of thinking. Lazarus wasn�t the most romantic of men but there was something about him that enticed her. She hoped it wasn�t simply the pity factor but she couldn�t discount that. She did feel the urge to mend his broken heart.

And then there was Morgan. She felt badly for having slapped him but couldn�t bring herself to apologize.

She was so lost in thought that it took her a few seconds to realize there was a man on the line now, repeatedly saying hello in a distinctly British voice: "I say, is there anyone there?"

"Is this James Garmont?"

"Yes, it is! And to whom am I speaking, young lady?"

"Samantha Grace of Sovereign City."

"Ah! The little girl of Sheridan and Amanda? I met your parents years ago at a charity get together. Never forgot them. Such a charming, good-humored set of people! What can I do for you, love?"

Samantha paused. Garmont knew her parents? Did Lazarus know that? If so, it explained why he wanted her to handle this call. Sometimes the things he knew bordered on the supernatural. "They speak highly of you as well," she lied. "I�m calling to ask you about Mr. Mitchell. He visited you not long ago and purchased a mummy, didn�t he?"

"I believe he did, yes." Samantha fought the urge to stare at the phone. All the good nature had faded abruptly from Garmont�s voice. He sounded quite brusque, in fact. "Terrible pity about his death. I heard about it from mutual friends. Give my best to his wife, will you?"

"Please," Samantha said, sensing that he was close to hanging up the phone. "His wife is at her wit�s end. She says the mummy is talking to her and moving about. Every third night, it screams at midnight. I know how it must sound but I�m trying to help her. Did anything unusual ever happen with the mummy while you owned it?"

Garmont sighed and it was such a weary sound that Samantha felt a surge of sympathy for him. She could hear him sit down heavily. "That thing has been nothing but a terror. I tried to talk him out of taking it but he wouldn�t listen. He was obsessed with her, just like I was." Samantha said nothing, sensing that he would continue in his own time. "I collected the things, mummies I mean. I bought a few and enjoyed showing them off to blokes from the pub. It was good for a laugh now and again. But then a gypsy came knocking on my door one day� I nearly had the help drive her away, she stank so fiercely and you can�t trust them, you know? They�ll steal you blind if you let them. But she told me she had heard I liked mummies. She said she had one and she was special. So I walked out to her wagon and took a look. Even all dried up and swathed in bandages, she was beautiful. I could feel it in my loins." Garmont�s voice trailed away. "I�m sorry, Miss. That�s not proper, is it?"

"It�s okay. Please go on."

"Well I bought her, of course. And the gypsy told me that she was a princess named Femi. She also told me that what made Femi so special was that she wasn�t truly dead. She slept in some sort of awful twilight haze. As long as you kept the seven-starred pendant in the same house, she wouldn�t wake up. Move it far enough away, though, and she�d start to revive. It would be slight, at first, but every three days she�d get a little stronger, until at last she was warm and gorgeous again."

"There�s a necklace, you say?"

"Yes. I gave it to Mitchell, though I suspect he did the same thing I did. He eventually wanted to see what would happen if she woke up. I had her for nearly three months before I gave in to temptation. There was something about her corpse that made me weak." Garmont�s voice became strained and even over the distant phone connection, she knew he was crying. "I buried the pendant out in the garden and then waited. Every three days, she got a little stronger� until finally she came to me and her hips were alabaster white and her breasts were full and ripe. She had raven black hair and almond eyes. She tore at her cloth coverings until all of her sex was exposed and she took me right there on the floor. It was� it was like nothing I�d ever experienced. She was in control the entire time and she took me� like she was claiming me." Garmont grew silent and Samantha almost thought she�d lost the connection when he continued. "When I woke up, I found her in the kitchen. She�d killed the butler and eaten his heart. I ran screaming but they were all dead: the maid, her daughter, even the dogs. All ripped apart by my princess. She came to me again and the Lord knows I�m not sure if she planned to kill me to� or take me back to her bed."

"What did you do?"

"I ran to the garden and dug up the necklace with my bare hands. Once I had it, she returned to her sleep. Her skin went dry and the blood dried up inside her, turning to dust. Any time I felt tempted by her, I�d remember what she did."

"When she was waking up from her sleep� did she scream anything at you?"

"Oh, good heavens, yes. God is dead. Every night. The gypsy told me that the gods of ancient Egypt had punished her. She�d been part of a cult that believed the gods were all dead and gone, that their hold on the people should no longer be enforced. The gods punished her by transforming her into what she is now and the knowledge of that keeps her angry. She shouts her fury at them every chance she gets."

Samantha realized that she should have been writing all of this down. No worries, she thought, there�s no way I�m forgetting any of this. "How and why did Mr. Mitchell end up with her?"

"I�d put her and the other mummies in the attic. I�d like to say I�d forgotten all about her but that would be a lie. She haunted me. Even now, I can still feel her lips against mine and the heat of her breath on my neck. When Mitchell came to visit, it was around the time that I was gathering things up for the church rummage sale. I asked him to help me bring down an old box of clothes from the attic and while we were up there, he saw the pile of mummies. I could tell how interested he was and I have to admit that I shared the story quite freely. I didn�t hide the danger from him, though. I knew it wouldn�t matter if I did. He was smitten, just like I had been. And I wanted her out of my house. So when he asked if he could buy her, I was more than happy to take his money. I shouldn�t have done it, I know that. I knew the risks for my friend but I was a bloody coward!"

Samantha pressed on, sensing that Garmont was near his breaking point. "All we have to do is find the necklace and bring it close to her? Then she goes back to sleep?"

"Yes�." Samantha thanked him and hung hurriedly. If she�d waited just a second longer, she might have heard something of vital importance. Garmont continued speaking, not having heard her goodbye. "But you have to watch out for Them. They�ll be drawn to her and they�ll do whatever they can to make sure you don�t interfere with her resurrection. Miss Grace?"

Garmont stared at the phone in horror. He�d been so caught up in recounting his sins that he hadn�t told her about Them. How could he have been so stupid?

For a dead woman, she looked pretty good. Morgan stood in front of Princess Femi, his eyes traveling the lines of her body for the umpteenth time. The linen hid her face and there was ripeness to her scent but even in her dried out state, there were hints that in life she had possessed the kind of figure that would have set the hearts and minds of men aflame.

"You look like my husband, the way you stare at her." Lorraine stood behind him in the doorway to the cluttered study. She had two glasses of wine in her hands and she slowly stepped forward to offer one to Morgan. He accepted it with a rakish smile. "What is it about her that holds men in thrall?"

"Can�t put my finger on it," Morgan answered. He sipped the wine and his grin widened. This was good stuff, much better than anything he could usually afford. "Thanks for this," he said, holding up the glass.

"You�re welcome, Mr. Watts."

"Call me Morgan."

"Only if you call me Lorraine."

Morgan noticed the look in her eyes and he recognized what might be happening here. She�d been trapped in a marriage of convenience and now that she was free, all those pent-up desires were being amped up by the danger she�d found herself in. It was a dangerous cocktail, especially where Morgan was concerned.

Clearing his throat, Morgan took a large gulp of the wine and set the glass aside. "I better start examining her."

Lorraine looked slightly perturbed but said nothing. She sat down on a small couch nearby and watched him approach Femi. She leaned back and her breasts strained against the fabric of her white dress. Morgan tried to ignore her. Not that long ago, he would have gladly accepted her unspoken invitation. But these days, he was a valued member of Assistance Unlimited and he had a job to do.

And there was also the matter of Samantha. Sure, she�d made it clear she wasn�t interested in romance but it still felt like cheating to consider going to Lorraine Mitchell�s bed.

Morgan ran his hands down the mummy�s slim hips and patted her down like he was a cop checking for weapons. He moved the body and examined the wall behind her as well. There was absolutely nothing unusual about her.

"I don�t see any signs that anyone�s playing any kind of joke on you, Mrs. Mitchell. This here is your ordinary kind of mummy."

"You have a good sense of humor. I like that in a man."

Morgan cleared his throat again, wondering when the others would be arriving. He was about to suggest that they step out into the garden and finish their wine in the sunlight when a prick on the back of his neck caught his attention. His hand flew up and slapped against the skin. He�d thought it was an insect biting him but his palm came against something small and sharp. He yanked it out and stared at in growing horror. It was a tiny blow dart with some kind of amber-colored fluid dripping from the tip.

He whirled about to look at the window, which was open slightly to let in a breeze. A swarthy man�s face was there, the blowgun raised to his lips for another attack. Around the man�s eyes was thick mascara, making his eyes seem like white orbs in a field of black. "Lorraine!" he hissed but it was too late. His head was swimming so much that he toppled over to the floor, even as the man shot a second dart at Lorraine. She gasped in alarm, the wine glass falling from slack fingers to stain the carpet.

Lazarus Gray stared at the corpse of David Mitchell. He wore a small gauze mask over his mouth and nose but it did virtually nothing to help with the smell. Decomposition was a natural thing but its effects on the human body were not pretty.

Hovering nearby was the city�s coroner, a grossly fat man named Sheedy. Sheedy was munching on a cruller doughnut, not disturbed in the least by the grisly scene before him. Death was part of his every day existence and in the crime-riddled streets of Sovereign, he frequently saw things that would churn the stomach of lesser men. "So what are you looking for?" he asked, bits of cake falling down onto the front of his bloodstained shirt. He looked more like a butcher than a man of medicine and law.

"Mr. Mitchell�s death is under my personal investigation. I merely wish to verify your earlier diagnosis as to the cause of death."

"Heart attack." Sheedy shoved the rest of the cruller into his mouth and proceeded to lick his fingers clean. "No signs of foul play. Tested him for poison in case that wife of his wanted to do him in. Nothing showed up."

Gray said nothing. He would have preferred to study the body alone but that would have required paying off Sheedy. Gray had plenty of money but he had no desire to line the man�s pockets any further.

Mitchell had been, to the naked eye, in fine health. Tests showed that he was in the early stages of at least two different sexually transmitted diseases, however, and Gray was fairly confident that he had not acquired them during relations with his wife. He tilted the head to the side and noticed something on the dead man�s neck. It looked like a hematoma of some kind, circular in shape with a number of red spots in the center. It had faded some as the blood had settled but the remnants were still there, indicating that it had been fresh at the time of death.

Sheedy leaned over the body, dropping crumbs onto the dead man�s suit. "Yeah, I saw that, too. Looks like he and the wife had gotten frisky a little bit. It�s a love bite."

Gray stared at it. The mark had other names, as well. In America, it was often referred to as a hickey. In India, it was dubbed a Kamasutra bite. Gray was certain that Lorraine would deny that she had left this mark on her husband. Despite what she�d said about trying for children, it was apparent to Gray that she and her husband were estranged. She had the air about her of a long-suffering woman who was far more upset about the mummy�s actions than she was over the recent death of her lover. So who had done this to him? Surely he hadn�t found the time to meet with a mistress right before his heart attack� but the only other woman in the house besides Lorraine was Femi.

Gray suddenly had a clear image of Mitchell unwrapping the lower portion of Femi�s face and running his hand over her dried skin. He�d leaned in, possibly even kissed her, and then placed his cheek against hers in a morbid parody of a lover�s embrace. Imagine his horror when the mummy screamed and then closed her lips around his throat, sucking so hard that she ruptured the cells beneath the skin. He�d panicked and died, falling to the floor where Lorraine would later find him.

It was all conjecture, of course, but Gray felt certain now that Lorraine was telling the truth. Femi was alive, in some blasphemous manner. He stepped back, whipped off his mask and gloves, tossing both to Sheedy. "Thank you, Doctor. This has been most enlightening."

He stepped outside and found Samantha waiting for him. She looked so worried that he immediately sensed something was wrong. "What is it?" he asked.

"I made the call and got a lot more information. I went straight to the Mitchell place to warn Morgan and I found that they were gone: all three of them. And I don�t think they left on their own."

Gray�s mismatched eyes sparked with anger. He knew who the �three� were: Morgan, Lorraine Mitchell, and Princess Femi. "We�ll rendezvous with Eun at headquarters," he said.

"And then what are we going to do?"

Lazarus thought there was a surprising amount of concern in Samantha�s voice, more than usual in these kinds of situations. Was it because Morgan was among the missing? "Then we will rescue our friend and client� and destroy the abomination that is Femi!"

Morgan woke up with one of the worst headaches of his life. He blinked through blurry vision, trying to figure out where he was and as things slowly came into view, he realized that he was in a lot of trouble.

He was in a poorly lit room whose walls were composed of gray brick. Torches were mounted on brackets here and there, casting the room in flickering light. In the center of the room lay twin altars. Upon the first lay the cloth-wrapped body of Princess Femi. On the second lay the nude form of Lorraine Mitchell. She was bound hand and foot, stretched out as far as her body could stand. Morgan could see blood welling up around her bonds, which were cruelly tight. She writhed as much as she could, tears streaming down her face and terror mounting in her eyes.

Morgan himself was standing up against the wall, his arms raised over his head. His wrists were shackled together just below the ceiling and as he tested the strength of his bonds, he realized that he would never break through.

In the room with him and Lorraine were five men, all dressed in black robes with hoods. Around each of their necks was a large golden ankh necklace. Two of the men were laying out a set of ceremonial knives, placing them beside Femi on the altar. Two more stood guard at the single door that led into the room, keeping close eyes on the activities in front of them. The fifth man approached Morgan when it became clear that he was awake. The man reached up and drew back his hood, revealing a thin face and a hooked, hawkish nose. The man was obviously Egyptian from the coloring of his skin and the accented English he spoke.

"You�ve decided to join us at last, have you? Good. I am Achmed. And you are?"

"Going to knock your teeth out if you don�t let me go."

Achmed laughed, displaying a set of yellowed teeth. "American bravado. It�s always entertaining." The man�s smile vanished quickly and he drove a painful punch into Morgan�s midsection, making him cry out. "Now I will ask you again: what is your name?"

"Morgan Watts. I�m a member of Assistance Unlimited and if you know anything about this town, you�ll realize what a terrible mistake you�ve made."

Achmed�s expression did change a bit at the name of Morgan�s employers. He covered it up quickly, however, turning back toward the struggling form of Lorraine Mitchell. "By the time Lazarus Gray could find this place, we will be long gone. And our Princess shall live again."

"You�re madmen! All of you!" Lorraine spat out. "Let me go and I can pay you! I have enough money to make you all rich men!"

"We don�t care for money." Achmed picked up a slender blade that gleamed in the firelight. "We care only for our sacred mission."

"And what�s that?" Morgan asked. He had an awful feeling that nothing good was going to come of that knife and Lorraine�s current position so if he could keep the man talking, that meant more time for Lazarus and the others to save the day.

"We are known as The Undying," Achmed answered, slowly running the point of the blade between Lorraine�s breasts. The dagger�s point was so sharp that its progress left a thin red line in its wake. "For centuries, we have pursued our beautiful Femi, always waiting for the proper time. She fell in with our cult during the final days of her life, renouncing the old gods. For her sins, she was put to death and strange spells put upon her. Some say the gods did these but we know better � it was the priesthood who put her into these undying slumbers, so that they could make an example of her. They feared that if the common man lost their faith, they would lose their power. And they were right. For her sacrifice, The Undying swore to do whatever it could to revive her. We have tracked her from owner to owner, always hoping to steal her away so that she could be revived. After all the failures of my predecessors, I shall at least succeed. Tonight, she awakens!"

Achmed turned to the men at the door, gesturing for them to open the aperture. They pushed the heavy doors until they slid noisily across the floor, scraping the stone. A chill wind blew in, carrying with it the salty stench of the harbor. Morgan knew where they were, now: they were in one of the storage bays located near the pier. There were dozens of them, each rented out to one or more of the ships that made stops in the harbor.

The Egyptians all gathered around the bodies of the two women, one living and the other trapped in an awful state of un-life. They began to chant and Achmed looked over with shining eyes at Morgan. For some reason, they wanted Morgan alive, so he could watch, but as to why that was, Morgan didn�t have a clue.

Achmed raised his dagger high and brought it down with incredible suddenness, piercing Lorraine�s heart and silencing her screams of terror. Blood sprayed into the air, splattering wetly on the Egyptian�s face. He looked mad as he began tearing and rending at the poor girl�s chest, not stopping until he�d carved out her heart. He raised the still beating organ into the air over Femi�s cloth-covered body. He squeezed, reducing the heart to a bloody pulp, bits of which fell all over Femi�s body.

Morgan felt his stomach lurch and anger blazed inside his chest. He�d seen murder before but rarely had it been done so callously and in such a cowardly fashion.

As the blood soaked through the rags and into Femi�s dried skin, a startling transformation began to occur. Her breasts became fuller, her hair took on a lustrous quality and her skin returned to the pallor and shape of life. She sat up, tearing the bandages from her eyes and as she looked about her, the expression on her face was one of mixed emotions. She seemed elated and yet horrified, as if she was all too aware of how unholy her existence now was. She looked straight at Morgan and opened her full lips. "God is dead!" she hissed and the words carried with them such malice that Morgan winced. This was a woman who despised the religion that had surrounded her in life and which had trapped her for eternity in this horrid state.

"Princess! You have returned to us!" Achmed squealed. She turned quickly, regarding him with suspicion. When she answered him, it was in an ancient dialect that Morgan couldn�t understand. He watched as Achmed and Femi conversed for several seconds and his blood froze as Femi slid from the altar, taking several steps toward him. Achmed switched back to English so Morgan could know what was about to happen. "Femi lives and breathes but she still retains the dark hungers that have been set upon her. She requires nourishment, Mr. Watts. And you, sir, are going to be her celebratory meal!"

Morgan recoiled in horror as Femi opened her mouth to reveal a mouth full of sharp teeth. The resurrected Egyptian princess lunged for him, wrapping her arms around his torso. Her tongue slithered like a snake across his throat and Morgan realized that he was about to die.

Miya Shimada was a Japanese-American and her beauty was the perfect mixture of the two races that made up her ethnic background: the slim features of the Japanese melded with the hips and breasts of a Western woman. Her jet-black hair fell in straight lines around her perfectly sculpted face and she wore a form-fitting black skirt and blouse, along with a small hat and veil. She looked like someone headed to a funeral but the cruel smile on her ruby red lips also made her look like the proverbial black widow, seeking fresh prey.

She stood in front of the shuttered windows of Benson Drugs, a pharmacy that had closed down in the days immediately following the great Stock Market Crash of �29. Now, the entire block was empty, save for the old hotel building across the street. It was now used as the headquarters of Assistance Unlimited, housing Lazarus Gray and his aides.

Miya stepped back into the shadows as Lazarus emerged from the building, followed closely by Samantha and Eun. The three of them moved with grim determination and Miya wondered what mission they were on. She found so much about Lazarus Gray fascinating and she yearned to know why he was doing these things.

Once, in another life, she and the man who now called himself Gray had been lovers. But that had been before he�d woken up here in Sovereign City, his past nothing more than tattered images and sounds.

Samantha slid quickly into the backseat of Gray�s waiting car, while Eun took the passenger seat in the front. Gray was about to duck behind the wheel when Miya stepped into view. "Lazarus Gray?" she asked, raising her voice loud enough that he couldn�t miss hearing her.

Lazarus paused and his mask of stoicism slipped. For a brief second, he looked like a confused and somewhat lost man. And then his resolve returned and he was once more the composed figure that had become so feared throughout the underworld. He turned his head to regard her, his heart hammering in his chest. Something about her voice was painfully familiar and he suddenly longed to feel her touch on his bare chest. "Yes?� he asked, valiantly maintaining his composure.

"It is you, isn�t it?" Miya moved toward him, lifting the veil from her face. As soon as he saw her face, Lazarus gasped. Images flooded into his mind�s eye, of her nude in his bed, of the two of them arguing horribly. He heard the word �monster� very clearly but he couldn�t be sure which of them had said it. "Do you remember me?" she asked, watching his reaction very closely.

Gray glanced back into his car, where both Eun and Samantha were waiting. He shut the door and gave a brief nod. "I think so, yes. But things aren�t as clear as they should be. Can you tell me your name?"

Miya ran to him, wrapping her arms about his neck and hugging him so tightly that Lazarus thought he might choke. "I�ve missed you so much! I don�t care what�s happened to you, we�re together again!"

Gray peeled her off of him and held her at arm�s length, seeing the tears in her eyes. "Your name. Please."

"Miya." She reached out and touched his face. "You have no idea how long I�ve searched for you. Why aren�t you using your real name?"

A muscle twitched in Gray�s left cheek, a sign of his anticipation. "Miya," he said slowly, "can you tell me what my name is?"

"Of course I can! I can tell you everything."

"Chief?" Samantha was leaning her head out of the car window, her gaze flicking back and forth from Lazarus and this stranger woman. "Morgan needs us."

"Don�t go," Miya pleaded. "Stay with me and I�ll answer all your questions."

Though it only took the briefest of seconds, Samantha saw how much effort Lazarus had to exert to step away from Miya. "I can�t. I have responsibilities. Where can I reach you?"

Miya let her veil fall back over her eyes. "I�ll be in touch, my love. Hurry back."

Lazarus turned without saying farewell. He ignored the pointed stares of his aides, driving off as quickly as possible.

As Gray�s vehicle rounded the corner, Miya�s emotional display came to an abrupt end. She adopted a cruel smile and quickly walked toward an alleyway that led to an adjoining street. Her partner in this affair, Walther Lunt, was waiting for her in a parked car. He had told her that Gray wouldn�t fall for this, that he wouldn�t come with her into so obvious a trap. Miya had disagreed, thinking that whatever lingering feelings Lazarus might possess for her � coupled with his desire to know the truth about himself � would propel him into her arms.

Next time, she mused, she would know better. Lazarus Gray was deeply entrenched in Sovereign City, with men and women he considered to be family. That would make her task a bit more difficult but not impossible.

Lazarus Gray would be hers again, one way or another.

"Chief? Who was that woman?" Eun broached the subject that Samantha couldn�t bring herself to. The three of them had sat in silence for nearly five minutes, as Gray had skillfully navigated the crowded Sovereign streets. A slight drizzle was falling, making the pavement slick and deadly, especially at the speeds that Gray was approaching. But neither Eun nor Samantha was worried: they knew their employer was as skilled a driver as anyone in the world.

"A woman from my past. That�s virtually all I can tell you. I recognized her immediately but the images that passed through my head weren�t clear at all."

From the backseat, Samantha�s voice sounded distant. "Was she your lover?"

"I believe so. But I�m not certain we were together when the end came."

Both Samantha and Eun knew what he meant. Something had left him unconscious on the shores of Sovereign, battered to the point of amnesia. He�d had only one thing in his possession that offered any clue as to who he was: a medallion upon which the image of a man with a lion�s head was engraved with the words Lazarus Gray beside it. He�d adopted the name as his own in the hopes that it would lure into the open anyone who might know him. This was a dangerous gambit, since the first person he met after arriving in Sovereign City tried to kill him. So far, Lazarus had crossed paths with two people who knew him from before: a German named Walther Lunt, who had somehow managed to cheat death, and now this Miya woman.

Sensing that his employer was slipping into a brooding state, Eun switched topics. "Where are we going, Chief?"

"To the area of the pier where the storage areas are housed."

"You think that�s where Morgan is?" Samantha asked, leaning forward so that her head appeared in-between Eun and Lazarus.

"I know it is. After the affair with The Devil�s Bible, I asked all of you to drink a mixture of my creation."

"I remember," Samantha said, recalling the icy pink concoction that tasted a bit like chalk mixed with toothpaste. Lazarus hadn�t explained his reasons for asking them to ingest the solution but that wasn�t uncommon. Lazarus usually played his cards close to the vest and his aides trusted him implicitly, though there were certainly times when his secretive nature ate away at them.

"There were certain radioactive isotopes in there that have attached themselves to the lining of your intestines. I�m able to track it with a specialized device of my own design."

"So you know where we are at all times?" Eun asked.

"For precautionary measures, yes."

Lazarus swung his vehicle to the right, steering them toward the docks. In addition to the honest men and women who made their living in Sovereign City�s harbor area, the place was also home to many unsavory types. These criminals ducked out of sight as Gray passed, recognizing one of the city�s few crusaders for justice.

The car came to a stop in front of a set of storage units set into the side of a small hill. It was mostly beneath the main harbor area and was swathed in darkness. Rats, both human and animal, scurried away into the shadows. The three members of Assistance Unlimited were out of the vehicle in a flash. Lazarus held a Smith & Wesson Hand Ejector II in his right hand. The revolver was chambered with .45 caliber rounds and was his weapon of choice. Samantha held a smaller handgun, one that she normally carried strapped to her garter. Eun carried no weapon, preferring to use his hands and feet. Around his neck, he wore the seven-pointed star pendant.

Gray held his gun in front of him, slowly approaching one of the storage units. The heavy door was open, revealing a little of the stone floor within. There was flickering light that could be seen and Gray knew that it was from a mounted torch. He had been in similar places before, in his old lifetime. Places where men in robes conducted dark rituals, usually involving the defiling of virginal female flesh.

The three of them moved cautiously inside. Samantha gasped, being the first to spot Lorraine�s bloodied body, still strapped to one of the two altars erected in the center of the room.

Gray�s attention was fixed on the still form of Morgan Watts, who remained chained to the wall. "Samantha, please check on Mrs. Mitchell. Eun, remain in the door and make sure no one is watching us."

Gray lowered his weapon, moving quickly to stand beside Morgan. He felt for a pulse and found one, faint but steady. He lifted Morgan�s head and noticed that his friend�s throat was a bloody mess. It looked like a dog had attacked him, ripping away the skin until red meat was exposed. Gray peered through the blood and saw that while it was quite horrific, it shouldn�t prove fatal and a full recovery was possible.

"How is he?" Samantha asked, standing just behind Gray.

"He�ll live. Mrs. Mitchell?"

"She�s dead. Her heart�s been cut out."

Lazarus turned slightly, seeing how pale Samantha�s face was. "Do you need to step outside?"

Samantha visibly composed herself. "Of course not. I�m just worried about Morgan, that�s all."

Gray nodded, returning his attentions to Morgan. "Eun!" he said, raising his voice.

"Yes, Chief?"

"Start the car. We need to get Morgan to a hospital." Gray examined the cuffs that held Morgan�s hands and he reached into the pockets of his coat to retrieve a set of lock picks. After only a moment of work, the cuffs snapped opened and Morgan sagged into his employer�s arms.

To Gray�s astonishment, Morgan began mumbling something. Given how much blood he had lost, Morgan was displaying incredible strength of will. Gray pressed his ear close to Morgan�s mouth. "Tell me again," he whispered.

Morgan�s words were so soft that Gray had to strain to hear them. "The Sovereign Museum. That�s where she�s leading them."

"Who?" Gray asked, though he knew the answer. He still had to hear it.

"Femi. She lives again."

The Sovereign Museum of Natural History was a sprawling structure, standing in the heart of downtown. Comprised of twelve interconnected buildings, the Museum housed well over a million specimens, only a relative few of which were on active display. With a scientific staff of over a hundred, the Museum funded nearly four-dozen scientific expeditions each year, sending explorers out all over the globe. The Museum was divided up into numerous displays but the most popular was the ever-present Start of Sovereign Hall, where the origins of the city were examined. To access this, visitors had to stride through the huge entranceway, where they could stare up at a full-size model of a Blue Whale which hung from the ceiling. It was an awesome view but none of The Undying cared for it, especially not their leader, the Princess Femi.

She led her followers past an old man in a security guard�s uniform. He had been foolish enough to try and stop the group from entering the museum after hours.

Night had fallen in Sovereign and the streets were alive with activity: the frightened footfalls of the innocent and the stealthy movements of those for whom sin was second nature. No one had dared say a word to the beautiful woman encased in cloth rags or the mysterious hooded men who followed in her wake.

The group paused at the entrance to the Henry Jones Exhibition Hall. A sarcophagus stood in the doorway, next to a sign that read:

Femi traced the letters with her fingertips. The words slowly came into focus, just as the English language had done. She was no longer mortal and her brain was attuned to strange things. Language was not a true barrier any longer. She communicated with things on a primal level now: life and death were her constant companions.

"I need suitable clothing," Femi had said, which had inspired Achmed to lead her to this place. He�d visited the exhibit, feeling a sense of pride intermingled with disgust as he�d toured the museum. Here were the remnants of a great and mighty empire that he adored, put on display for the masses to gawk at.

They found the display room quite gaudy in its appearance. Artwork and styles of clothing from various ages of Egypt were lumped together into a mishmash of false history and the hieroglyphs on the wall were meaningless. Femi took note of the four mummies placed on display and sniffed disapprovingly. All were servants who had been buried with their masters so they could assist them in the afterlife.

A set of mannequins showed a Pharaoh and his bride in full regalia and it was to these that Femi strode. She smiled broadly, quickly divesting herself of the cloth rags that covered her ample beauty. When she was naked, she glanced over at Achmed, whose eyes were like burning coals. He drank her in and his frequent swallowing made it clear that he hungered for her.

"I will finally look like the Queen I always should have been," she purred.

"Nothing can improve upon the loveliness you already possess."

Femi laughed and began to remove the royal garments from the mannequin. She draped them across herself, noting that they fit perfectly, as if they had been meant for her. The dress featured a jeweled collar and it matched the elaborate nature of the rest of her attire. Rings, anklets and bracelets, along with a pair of glittering gold earrings, were all part of the mannequin�s apparel and Femi felt like she were a goddess herself once she was finished donning them all.

She turned to face her followers and they fell to their knees, bowing before her. "You will be my priests and royal guard," she pronounced. "But you will not be enough. The men of this time are strong and their weapons are potent. If I am to rule, as I should, we will need assistance. Let our dead brothers rise again so that they may serve!"

Femi raised both hands and a strange silence filled the room. Not even the breathing of The Undying could be heard. And then, ever so faintly, came a stirring. It became louder until it sounded like a stuck door being forced open. A foul stench filled the air and Achmed wrinkled his nose. It was like being in a charnel house and his eyes began to water in response.

The four mummies in the room jerked to life, the sunken pits where their eyes had once been now glowing with a yellow light. With shambling feet and jerking movements, they pushed their way out of the caskets in which they had been propped, moving to stand before Femi. The Undying, stout men all, looked upon them fearfully, awed by the power of their resurrected Princess.

Femi looked around until she saw a replica of an Egyptian throne in the corner of the room. Mannequin slaves stood on either side of the throne, holding large fronds with which to fan the Pharaoh or his Queen. Femi marched toward it and sat down, enjoying the moment. After so long in her twilight sleep, she was breathing the air again and being doted upon by her followers. This was the ultimate proof of her victory over the old gods, as well. They had sought to punish her for heresy but here she sat, resplendent in victory.

With triumphant malice in her voice, Femi declared once more, "God is dead."

"Shouldn�t we call the police?" Eun asked, taking the museum steps two at a time in order to keep pace with Lazarus Gray. Samantha lagged slightly behind, though she herself was moving far quicker than most men could manage.

"All that would do is put more innocent lives at risk," Gray replied. Eun started to point out that with all the corruption in the ranks of the Sovereign PD, there probably wouldn�t be all that many innocents involved. He held his tongue, however, and instead followed his employer into the cavernous entrance of the museum. They spotted the dead night watchmen immediately and after checking in the vain hope that he might still be alive, the three of them began to look about with caution.

Samantha Grace felt nervous as a cat on a hot tin roof. She�d hated to leave Morgan alone at the hospital but she also couldn�t stand the thought of missing out on the showdown with Femi. When all this was done, she was planning on mending fences with Morgan. Perhaps she�d ask him out to coffee, assuming she could make it clear that she didn�t think romance was � or should be � in the cards.

"We should have called ahead," Eun said. "We might have saved this man�s life."

Gray impassively looked at the younger man. "I�m convinced that such a thing would have only led to more deaths. We came as quickly as we could. We can debate this later."

Eun nodded, knowing his employer was right. Gray allowed his aides to question his decisions to a certain extent but ultimately he was the man behind Assistance Unlimited.

"Chief," Samantha whispered. "Look at that."

Gray spotted it immediately: the sign that led into the Egyptian exhibit. It seemed too perfect that a resurrected mummy would seek out the familiar in a museum. "Single file," Gray commanded. "I�ll be in the front, Samantha in the middle, Eun at the rear."

Down the corridor they crept, hearing voices up ahead. There was also a terrible stench that forced Samantha to pull a tissue from her pocket. She held it over her nose but it did little to help.

When they came round the corner, all three of them froze in place at the bizarre sight before them. Femi sat on her throne, looking like the Cheshire cat, with a grin that spread from ear to ear. The Undying cultists stood before her, talking softly to each other. The four mummies shuffled their feet, making hoarse groaning sounds in the back of their throats.

Femi spotted the newcomers and stood up, alerting The Undying in the process. Achmed clenched his hands into fists but remained silent, allowing Femi to determine how this should proceed.

"Who are you?" she demanded, using an imperious tone of voice.

Lazarus stepped forward, displaying no fear of the mummies who hovered nearby. "My name is Lazarus Gray and these are two of my assistants. Earlier this evening, you killed a woman who had hired us and left another of my aides near death. I�ve come seeking retribution."

"You address me as if you were an equal," Femi replied. "I do not like that."

"You might have been royalty at some point in the past," Gray countered. "But that was long ago. The world has changed."

"Then I shall change it back."

Gray took a deep breath before answering in the negative. "That won�t happen. Surrender now and I�ll see that your return to the grave will happen quickly and peacefully. Resist and I�ll send you to hell with a scream on your lips."

Samantha blinked. Gray didn�t usually use such strong language and very rarely did he go into a combat with death as his goal. She didn�t know if it was something related to the woman from his past or just simply a recognition of the danger posed by Femi, but it was obvious that he wasn�t playing around tonight.

Femi stared at Lazarus in evident disbelief. With a sneer, she raised her chin toward the four mummies who stood in the room, each of them smelling like an open grave. "My undead warriors� kill these intruders."

The mummies hissed, their bodies suddenly flooded by a devilish desire to murder. They shambled toward the three members of Assistance Unlimited while The Undying backed away, eager to watch the carnage. The first of the undead creatures reached Gray, who discharged three shells from his Hand Ejector II. The bullets ripped through the cloth and skin of the mummy but did nothing more than stagger it. It grabbed hold of Gray�s wrist and bent it cruelly to the side, squeezing so hard that he was forced to drop his gun.

Eun sprang forward, attempting to distract two of the monsters before they could gang up on Samantha. He kicked one of them in the chest and sent it toppling backward, where it finally smacked into the wall. He then drove a karate chop into another�s neck but the impact sent a shockwave of pain up his arm. Hitting the mummy felt like striking a sack of potatoes. The mummy shot out both hands and grabbed the young Korean around the neck, applying enough pressure that Eun quickly saw stars.

Having witnessed the futility of Gray�s attempts at shooting his opponent, Samantha quickly hiked up her skirt and placed her own pistol back in her garter. She then allowed the fourth and final mummy to lunge for her. She grabbed hold of its arm and twisted, tossing it over her shoulder in a classic jujitsu maneuver. The mummy landed with a thud on the floor and Samantha drew back before diving down with knee extended. Her knee struck the mummy in the face, crushing its nose. The mummy made a wheezing sound as Samantha stood up again and began kicking its head, finally reducing its dried skull to a pile of dust.

The pretty blonde whirled about and realized that her two male companions were not faring nearly as well. Both Gray and Eun were grappling with their enemies, which left one mummy free. This creature was now lumbering toward her with malice in its glowing eyes. Samantha glanced up to see Femi had taken her place on the throne again and was watching the battle with obvious bloodlust.

Samantha knew that her same judo flip would probably not work on a second mummy so she elected to take the offensive. Now that she knew that the creatures might have tough flesh and be resistant to pain but that their insides were quiet brittle, she pulled her gun back out and rushed toward her foe. She jumped into the air, wrapping her legs around the mummy and jamming the barrel of her gun right down its gullet. She unloaded four rounds into the beast, completely blowing out the back of its head. It staggered before toppling over and Samantha rolled out of the way before she could be trapped beneath it.

Eun was close to passing out and his attempts at breaking the mummy�s hold on his throat were growing feebler. He thought he saw the ghost of his father over the undead monster�s shoulder, smiling to him. In Korean, his father seemed to be saying, "Do not give up. We will see you eventually� but now is not your time to die."

Drawing strength from the vision, Eun raised his hands to the mummy�s face, digging his fingers into the toothless mouth. He focused all his strength on pulling the thing�s maw open wider, hoping that the brittleness of the creature�s bones would help him. The thing had dense flesh that felt like it was padded with some thick material but it was still an ancient thing and the bones had grown soft. Eun cried out as the mummy�s skull cracked and the top half of its head gave way, splitting along the seam of its mouth. The top half of the skull flew into the air, smashing against a nearby wall and falling to the floor in shards of dust and bone.

By this point, Achmed was growing concerned. He looked desperately at Femi but the Princess merely held up a hand, obviously telling him to be patient. She was studying Lazarus Gray closely, her pink tongue darting out to moisten her lips. Achmed felt a surge of jealousy and turned his attentions back to the battle. He had hoped to become a consort to Femi � after all, it was he who had restored her to life. But now he recognized the signs of physical interest she had in Gray. If necessary, he swore that he�d kill Lazarus himself to ensure that no one came between him and his princess.

Lazarus and his opponent were still locked in a tight grapple but the founder of Assistance Unlimited was slowly gaining an advantage. Despite the undead�s tremendous strength, Gray was possessed of an indomitable will that often allowed him to overpower seemingly superior foes. Lazarus gritted his teeth as he forced the mummy�s arms out from his body and with tremendous effort, Gray suddenly brought them up and then down, cracking them at the elbows. Bone and dust flew from the wounds and Gray took one of the ruined limbs and used it to beat the mummy about the head, driving it to the floor. He continued his assault until the mummy�s head was nothing more than powder.

The three heroes of Assistance Unlimited stood panting, wondering what would happen next. Femi was breathing just as hard and when she spoke, her words were not what any of them had been expecting.

"Lazarus Gray, you have impressed us with your display. All of you would be welcome additions to our ranks." Femi rose from her throne and crossed the room to where Gray stood. She placed a hand on his chest, a teasing smile on her full lips. "Become my mate and I will see that your friends are treated like royalty."

"No!" Achmed barked. He immediately looked chastened when Femi turned to glare at him and he softened his tone. "My princess, it would not be proper. He is not of Egyptian blood. He is a commoner."

"I think it is for me to decide such things, not for you," Femi replied coolly.

"Actually," Lazarus interrupted, "I have no interest in bedding you. In fact, my only reason for being here is to see that you and your allies are silenced forever."

Femi blinked as if slapped. It was quite clear that she had never considered that he might actually reject her proposal. "If you refuse me, then there is only one option left for you and your friends: death."

Gray leaned close enough to her that she could feel his breath on her face. "I�d advise you to reconsider. I meant my earlier offer. Surrender and I�ll do what I can to ensure your passing is painless."

The look of rage that flew over Femi�s face was incredible to behold. Her eyes shone with mystic fire. "Kill him," she hissed between clenched teeth. "Kill all of them!"

The Undying drew their weapons, a combination of guns and knives, but Gray had already delivered a backhanded blow to Femi that sent her flying. Normally, he would have felt qualms about hitting a woman but in this case, he had none. Femi was a monstrosity, doomed to un-life for heresy. Now that she had a second chance at existence, what had she done? Nearly killed Morgan and left a night watchman to bleed out. She had proven her unworthiness to live.

Femi landed on her back, scrambling into a crouch as The Undying rushed at Eun and Samantha. She saw the Korean leaping into the air, kicking one of her men so hard that his teeth were knocked from his mouth in a bloody spew. Samantha had dived behind a display of Egyptian art and pottery, exchanging gunfire with The Undying.

"You, Lazarus Gray, are going to regret this," Femi said. Her beautiful face twisted into something awful as her anger took hold. She stood up, looking resplendent in her Egyptian finery, and pointed both hands at Gray. Tendrils of foul energy shot forth from her fingers, wrapping around him. His skin began to shrivel and Lazarus felt as if the very life were being sucked from his lungs. "I�ll show you what it was like for me," she stated. "I�ll see how you like being a living mummy for the next few decades."

Gray bucked in agony, falling to his knees. His eyes seemed to shrink into their sockets and his mouth became as dry as sandpaper. As death seemed to swell up, ready to envelop him, he began to remember a similar event, another time when he had teetered on the brink of the abyss: Lazarus saw himself staggering through a burning building. The stench of burning flesh had made him retch and the wails of the dying filled had filled his ears. He�d been bleeding from a number of wounds, most notably from a massive hole in his neck. He�d held a blood-soaked rag against his neck as he stumbled from the building, out into the night air. It had been an autumn night in Mexico and as he had turned back to face the flames, he saw a young girl, no more than a child, trying in vain to escape the deathtrap. She�d howled like a banshee, her hands reached out to him beseechingly.

"I killed them," Lazarus hissed, even as Femi cast her dark spells on him. "All those people in the house � men, women and children. I killed them." He looked up at Femi and his mouth twisted into an expression of disdain. "I can�t let you kill me. Not yet. Not until I know why I did those things."

Amazingly, Gray managed to force his way back to his feet. Even as his skin turned an unhealthy shade of white, Lazarus drew out one of his daggers. He took careful aim at Femi, who stared at him in disbelief. The knife flew through the air, embedding itself between her eyes. She gasped and fell back, her body beginning to decompose immediately. Her skin fell away in patches of dried earth and her skeleton disassembled, shattering as they hit the floor.

Achmed, who had been firing upon Samantha, howled in agony. He shouted for his men to cease their attacks and slowly they did as he asked, facing their adversaries warily. Lazarus was healing quickly, now that Femi�s magic was no longer working on him, and he watched as Achmed crept over to the remains of Femi, kneeling at her side. He ran his fingers through the pile of dust and bone, tears shining on his cheeks.

"You monsters," Achmed whined. "You destroyed her. She was the last remnant of the great Egyptian dynasties and you killed her."

"She should have died long ago," Gray responded. He looked toward the hallway as a set of uniformed officers rushed into the room. Evidently, the sounds of gunfire had finally attracted the authorities.

"Chief? You okay?" Samantha asked, moving to stand at his side. He looked distracted and she was worried that his injuries were more severe than they looked.

"I killed children."

Samantha blinked. "Chief?" She looked around at the police officers, which were rounding up The Undying and taking a statement from Eun. "What are you talking about?"

"While Femi was attacking me, I had a vision of the past. I think I may have done some awful things, Samantha." He looked at her and his emerald-colored eye shimmered, even as his brown one seemed to darken. Samantha had always found it peculiar how they could do that. "It�s time to stop playing around with the mystery of who I really am. The time�s come for me to find out once and for all."

Samantha took his hand. "All that matters is who you are now, Chief. The old you� maybe he should stay dead and buried."

Gray looked down at the dusty remains of Princess Femi. "That�s the problem, I�m afraid. Sometimes the dead don�t stay in their graves."

Morgan Watts was sitting up in his hospital bed when Samantha slipped into his room. She had a brown paper bag with her, from which the smells of Morgan�s favorite burger � a bacon & cheese concoction from Murray�s Deli � rose up invitingly. "Mind some company?" she asked, holding up the bag.

Morgan smiled. "Not at all. Especially when you�re bearing gifts!"

Samantha sat on the edge of his bed and offered him the bag. "How do you feel?"

"Rotten. But getting better. Sorry I missed all the fireworks."

"I think you saw plenty." Samantha waited until Morgan had pulled the hamburger out and taken the first bite before she began speaking again. "I�m sorry I slapped you. It wasn�t fair. I had been leading you on a bit. It�s not that I don�t like you in that way � I think I could � but we�re friends and coworkers and it�s just not wise to get involved. So, how about we go out for coffee sometime and agree to keep it simple."

Morgan stared at her with wide eyes and a mouthful of hamburger. He swallowed hard and settled back. "I�d like that," he said slowly. "To be honest, I thought you might be harboring feelings for Lazarus and that�s why you weren�t interested in me."

With cheeks flaming red, Samantha laughed and looked away. "No! That�d be silly. The Chief doesn�t have time for romance."

"If I were him, I�d make the time where you were concerned." Samantha looked pointedly at him and he shrugged his shoulders. "I�m saying that as a friend, of course."

A smirk appeared on Samantha�s face. "Of course." She noticed a basket of flowers sitting nearby and stood up to look at them. "Who sent you flowers?"

"Dunno. They were there when I woke up. Haven�t even looked at the card yet. I figured they were from Assistance Unlimited."

Samantha picked up the card and opened it. She knew that no one at the office had sent them and was curious who had. "Mind if I take a look?"

"Go ahead."

The words printed on the card made Samantha pause and, for some reason she couldn�t fathom, they seemed to bode ill for all involved:

Samantha stared at the card, picturing the attractive Asian woman who had so unsettled Lazarus. She crumpled up the card in her hand and tossed it into the trash.

"Who are they from?"

"Wrong room," she said cheerily. She picked up the flowers and headed for the door. "I�ll make sure they get where they should have gone."

Morgan watched her go, taking another bite of his hamburger. Women, he mused. You just never knew about them.

"Who am I?"

Under normal circumstances, such a question would have seemed absurd. But where Lazarus Gray was concerned, it was a perfectly valid inquiry.

Just over eighteen months before, he had woken up near the Sovereign City Harbor, battered and weary. He�d had no memory of who he was or how he�d come to be there and the only clue to his identity had been a strange coin on his person. It had depicted a nude man with the head of a lion, the words �Lazarus Gray� printed below the image.

Within minutes of coming to, Lazarus had found himself the target of an assassination attempt. That had set the tone for his time in Sovereign City, which had been filled with one dangerous threat after another. Along the way, he had formed Assistance, Unlimited, a group dedicated to aiding those for whom there was nowhere else to turn. He had adopted the name he�d found on the coin, hoping that it would draw out anyone who might know the truth.

It had taken far too long for Gray�s liking, but in the end, the strategy had worked. Miya Shimada had arrived outside the Assistance Unlimited headquarters and her arrival had brought with it a flood of contradictory memories: he knew that he and Miya had been lovers but he also knew that they�d had an awful fight that had ended their relationship. Furthermore, he�d seen images of himself setting fire to a small building in Mexico, deliberately killing men, women and children.

Now Lazarus and Miya were dining together at Amici�s, an upscale restaurant in the heart of the city. Normally, reservations had to be in place for weeks ahead of time but the maitre d� had once been nearly put to death by a bizarre and insidious form of poison. Assistance Unlimited had not only managed to find an antidote, they had also proven beyond a reasonable doubt that the person responsible for the attempted murder was the man�s own brother.

Miya took a sip from her glass of wine and cast a glance outside. It was raining cats and dogs, as it always seemed to do in gloomy Sovereign. She saw men and women scampering about in vain attempts at staying dry, their feet splashing in the puddles that lined the streets. "Is this really how you want to spend the evening?" she asked. "I was hoping to renew our friendship before diving into all the mysteries surrounding you."

Gray�s impassive face showed no trace of emotion. He was a handsome man, with hair that was more gray than brown, making him appear older than he was. His eyes were mismatched, with one being a dull brown, while the other glittered like an emerald. He wore a dark suit and driving gloves. "Miya, I�ve spent the past eighteen months not knowing if I was a monster or a saint, or something in-between. Do you realize that I don�t even know my real name? I�d love to renew our friendship, as you put it, but the first step to doing that is you telling me all you know about my past."

Miya stared down at the pasta on her plate. "Can I at least eat while we talk?"

"Feel free."

Miya sighed, noticing that Lazarus didn�t bother picking up his own silverware. He was obviously planning to wait until she�d explained things. She reached up and brushed a strand of raven black hair behind her ear and she caught him watching the motion. A tiny smile touched her lips. So he did still find her attractive. That was nice to know. She knew that her mixed heritage � she was a Japanese-American � gave her an exotic appearance and she�d accentuated it by wearing a Western style evening dress and Japanese-themed earrings and necklace. "We met nearly eight years ago, in Tokyo. You were there with a German named Walther Lunt and I was working in my father�s shop. The two of you came in just before closing and Lunt told my father that he was there to purchase a small statue called The McGuinness Obeslisk."

"What sort of shop did your father run?"

"He collected and sold occult books and artwork."

Gray wasn�t surprised. From his own spotty memories, he knew that his past was filled with mysticism. A prior encounter with the disfigured Lunt had made him wonder if he and the German had once been allies or enemies. Apparently, he now knew the answer. They had worked together in some capacity.

Miya paused while she savored the exquisite cuisine. "The Obelisk was supposedly capable of controlling the minds of any female within 100 feet of it. My father kept it under lock and key so it wouldn�t affect myself or my mother." Miya smiled shyly, avoiding Gray�s gaze. "I was enamored of you from the first moment I laid eyes upon you. When Lunt and my father could not agree on a price, I stole the Obelisk and took it to your hotel room, hoping to impress you."

"And did you?"

"Yes. You took me to your bed that very night."

Lazarus shifted uncomfortably. More and more, he was becoming convinced that he wasn�t going to like the man he used to be but he couldn�t find the strength to stop the hunt. He had to know the truth. "And after that?"

"I went back to Europe with the two of you. I was indoctrinated into The Cabal. That�s just what I called it, of course. It has no real name, though people have attributed many to it over time: The Damnation Society, The Hellfire Club, The Illuminati, The Seekers. It�s a group of occultists who seek forbidden knowledge and who aren�t afraid to use it for their own ends."

"And I was a part of this?"

Miya hesitated and though Lazarus didn�t know her very well, he was sure she was keeping something from him with her answer. "Oh, yes. You were a willing participant. In everything."

"Including burning children alive in Mexico?"

Miya blinked before suddenly leaning forward and taking Gray�s hand. She squeezed it hard but he didn�t reciprocate. "Oh, you poor dear! It must be so hard to remember only bits and pieces, without context! Those weren�t innocents, my love. Those were vampires. A coven of them. They�d even turned children into the undead. It was horrible. You did them a favor by releasing their spirits."

"You still haven�t told me my name."

Miya withdrew her touch and took a deep breath. "All right. We�ll handle things your way. Your name is Rich-"

"Mr. Gray?"

Lazarus glanced up at the maitre d�, who looked slightly chagrined. "Yes?"

"Please forgive me. I know that you said you didn�t wish to be disturbed but� well, there�s been an incident up front that might require your attention."

It was then that Gray noticed a murmuring amongst the other restaurant guests and even a few stifled cries. Normally, he was so sensitive to his environment that he would never have missed something amiss but Miya�s recounting of his past had obviously obscured his awareness.

Gray stood up and spotted the source of the disturbance. A man had entered the restaurant and then collapsed, landing facedown in front of the maitre d� station. "Have you contacted the authorities?" Gray asked, hurrying toward the fallen man, the maitre d� in tow. Miya remained at the table, momentarily forgotten.

"Not yet. Should we?"

Lazarus understood the hesitance. The police force in Sovereign was little more than an extension of various criminal enterprises. There were good men who wore the badge but not enough of them to instill confidence in the city�s populace.

"Go ahead and place the call," Gray ordered. The maitre d� nodded at another employee, who bolted toward the phone.

Kneeling at the man�s side, Gray quickly rolled the fellow onto his back. Just by touch, Gray had surmised that it was too late to save the man�s life. He was quite dead already. Several people who were standing about gasped at the sight that was presented to them and one of the waitresses let out a bloodcurdling scream. She fainted into the arms of a busboy.

The skin on the dead man�s face had been burned away, as if by acid. As a result, all that was left was red muscle and white bone. The corpse now bore the horrific visage of a bloodied skull. Gray refrained from touching the ruined mess, for fear that some danger lingered on the raw flesh. There was a peculiar odor emanating from the dead man � something that smelled a bit like almonds. Gray checked to make sure his gloves were securely in place and began rifling through the man�s pockets. He found his wallet easy enough, along with a small card identifying him as Wallace J. Newton, Private Eye.

A uniformed police officer burst in at that moment and Gray recognized the type immediately: a burly, blustery fellow who enjoyed showing off his power. It only took the briefest examination to spot the signs.

"Get away from him, fella," the police officer barked, directing his comments to Lazarus, who slowly complied. To the rest of the people standing around, the officer said, "Everybody take your seats or get out! We gotta leave room for the medics when they get here!"

Gray took note of the man�s badge number. He had committed to memory every officer in the city, matching them up with their badge number. "Officer Mulvaney, there�s precious little that a medic could do here. This man is dead. His demise is peculiar enough that I would like to take his body back to Assistance Unlimited for further analysis."

Mulvaney glowered at Gray and it was immediately apparent that he didn�t think much of Assistance Unlimited and its mysterious founder. "How about you stay out of police business? You may have some special privileges but that doesn�t mean you can tell me what to do."

Gray reached out and placed a hand on Mulvaney�s shoulder. He gave it just a slight squeeze, though with the incredible strength he possessed, it was enough to bring a grimace to the officer�s face. "I appreciate the difficulty you must face in doing your job, Officer Mulvaney. People don�t show adequate respect for your uniform and badge. But in this case, I need you to be sensible. If you take this body to the morgue, they�ll call me in eventually and we�ll have wasted valuable time that could have been used to find Mr. Newton�s killer. So let�s work together on this."

Mulvaney withered under the intense gaze he received from Gray. With a shrug and a small shred of remaining defiance, he said, "Fine. Take it away. But you better share all your findings with the department. You�re not a law unto yourself, you know."

Gray turned away, hoping to catch Miya�s eye and offer an apology. When he looked back at their table, he saw that she had taken the opportunity to slip away. Gray frowned slightly, knowing that she hadn�t left through the front door or else he would have seen her. That meant she�d vanished through the kitchen and out the back.

Forcing his thoughts away from the darkness that was his past, Gray bent down and gently lifted the corpse of Wallace J. Newton.

Miya hurried down the alleyway, ignoring the rain that pelted her hair and soaked through her dress. Walther Lunt waited for her at the end of the street and he opened the car door so she could slip inside.

"You�re alone," the German noted. "I suppose that means you failed to bring him over to our side. What a surprise." One side of his face had been disfigured years before and now it was nothing more than a twisted mass of scar tissue. It ruined what otherwise would have been a cruel but handsome face.

Miya resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "He was distracted by a dead man."

"Again, nothing we shouldn�t have accounted for. Men and women are always dying in Sovereign and Lazarus Gray is always involved somehow."

"Are you just going to complain or are you going to drive?" Miya opened her purse and took out a handkerchief. She began to dab at her forehead and face, ensuring that her makeup didn�t run.

"What did you tell him?" Lunt asked, starting the car. He slowly pulled out onto the rain-slicked streets.

"About how we met. And he was concerned about that group of vampires he killed in Mexico. I assured him that he wasn�t a murderer."

"Not in that case, at least. Did you tell him about The Illuminati?"

"Some."

"Does he know that he turned against us?"

"I didn�t mention that part." Miya looked out the window, staring at the grimy city that she�d called home these past few weeks. "I don�t want to play into his notions of being a hero. He has just as much blood on his hands as any of us."

"This is too dangerous. I�ve asked the rest of our members to give us the option to simply kill him. The last thing we need is for him to become a thorn in our side again."

"We should wait. He�s like clay right now� all it takes it is the right manipulations and I can sculpt him into whatever we want."

Lunt glared at her. "Don�t let your lingering feelings for him get in the way of your common sense."

Miya laughed softly. "There�s no chance of that happening, Walther. And I do agree with you, somewhat. If it becomes clear that he won�t come back into the fold, then we�ll have to take measures to prevent him from interfering."

"Even if that means killing him?" Lunt prodded.

"Yes," Miya sighed. "Even if that means killing him."

Garrison Montreux was French-Canadian by birth, though from his accent, people assumed he was from the American Midwest. This was because he had long ago divested himself of any native inflection his words might carry. He had grown up hating his home province, always yearning for the American dream. Originally a slight child, Garrison had begun lifting weights in his teens and he was now a barrel-chested brute with massive biceps and a mean streak. Preferring to dress in dark suits and ties, Garrison�s body somehow suggested that he was a massive gorilla forced to wear a man�s clothes.

But the most chilling aspect of his appearance was his head. Garrison no longer bore the visage of a normal man. There was no flesh on his skull, leaving it terrifyingly bare. Tiny flickers of yellow-orange flame danced around the exposed bone when he was angry and a pair of glowing orbs shone out of his eye sockets. As a result, he no longer answered to his birth name. He was Mr. Skull, a silly name that no one laughed at.

Mr. Skull sat behind a large desk, staring at the men who were his chief lieutenants. Since arriving in Sovereign, he�d made quite a few inroads in the underworld, building a small name for himself very quickly. It was rough going, however, and he�d already made an enemy of The Monster, who was Sovereign�s current criminal kingpin. What no one knew was that Mr. Skull wasn�t your standard gangster. He loved money and power as much as anyone but that wasn�t his ultimate aim. He had darker desires than anyone realized.

"So the private dick is dead?" Skull asked, using the tough-talking gangster voice he preferred. It was nothing like the prim words used by his parents, nor was it anything resembling the way he had talked for most of his life.

Malone, a thin man with bad teeth, grinned in response. "We hit him right in the face just you like wanted. The Bone Dust worked like a charm. He ran off screaming into a nearby restaurant."

"Good. I want it mentioned on the streets that he was killed for poking his nose into our business. We need to use the Bone Dust again soon � let everybody know it�s a weapon we�ve got and we aren�t afraid to use it."

"Sure, boss, sure." Malone looked at the other men in the room and shifted his feet. They were all waiting expectantly for him to bring something up. He�d been tasked with the duty by drawing the short straw and he was none too happy about it. "Listen, there�s something I have to bring up�."

Mr. Skull turned his full attention on Malone and a few flickers of flame appeared around his skull, a sure sign that Malone was treading on thin ice. "Go on."

"Some of the boys think we�d actually be getting a little bit further without the whole flaming skull bit. I mean, it�s an incredible mask and it scares the living spit out of anybody who sees it but it works a little too good, y�know? A lot of guys don�t wanna work for you because they�re terrified."

Mr. Skull stood up and Malone took a step back. He instantly regretted having spoken up at all. "I�m sorry, boys. I�m too scary, is that it?"

"Well� that�s what some folks say; people who aren�t as tough as the rest of us. We don�t think that."

"So you don�t find me frightening, Malone?" Mr. Skull adjusted his tie and moved closer, towering over his employee.

"Uh," Malone stammered. He wasn�t quite sure how to answer. If he said no, it might be construed that he was taunting his boss. If he said yes, then that might be seen as an insult as well. "I think you�re gonna be running this town soon. And I�m glad to be on what�s gonna be the winning side."

Mr. Skull patted Malone on the shoulder. "Good answer. But not quite quick enough on your feet." The flames around his head grew much brighter, dancing about like living things. He gripped Malone by the throat, lifting him off his feet with one hand. To the others, who were now watching with horror, he said, "Tell everyone. Make it clear so that they understand. Mr. Skull doesn�t wear a mask. This. Is. My. Face!"

Malone whimpered as Mr. Face slammed him onto his back on the desktop.

Mr. Skull used his free hand to pull out a small silver vial. His thumb easily pushed off the top of the vial and a reddish powder began to spill out, falling onto Malone�s face. Malone began thrashing wildly, recognizing the mixture dubbed Bone Dust.

The powder transformed into a corrosive liquid as soon as it touched Malone�s skin. The chemical reaction left an almond odor in the air and Malone�s screams were so awful that even the hardened criminals in the room looked away, with some of them retching.

When Malone ceased his fighting, his face was a ruined mess and his labored breathing slowly came to an end. Mr. Skull released his hold on him and turned to face the others. "Anybody else got anything smart to say?" he demanded. When no one said anything, he shoved Malone�s corpse to the floor and took his seat behind the desk. "Get that mess out of here."

Two of the men jumped to the task and Mr. Skull turned his chair so he could look out the window. "Boys," he said to those who remained. "I think it�s time to speed up my plans a little."

One of the men cleared his throat. "Whatcha wanna do, boss?"

Mr. Skull watched the rain that spattered against the window. In a very low voice, he said, "I want to kill some people, boys. A lot of them."

The former hotel that served as headquarters for Assistance Unlimited was a three-story affair. The first floor was for visitors and also contained several small apartments used by Gray�s aides. Lazarus Gray lived alone on the third. The second floor had been gutted, leaving a massive meeting area for the group. It was here that Morgan Watts, Samantha Grace and Eun Jiwon had gathered.

Morgan stared at what they�d dubbed �The Monster Board� and let out a whistle. It was an accounting of all the known crimes attributed to the city�s most notorious criminal over the past six months, with pins stuck on a map of Sovereign. The crimes were numerous and spread out haphazardly all over the map. It seemed that The Monster had his evil fingers in virtually every criminal enterprise imaginable. "It�s unbelievable. How can one man be involved in so many things?"

Samantha, a gorgeous blonde who was dressed today in khaki pants and a button-up white shirt, sat atop a nearby desk. Her knees were crossed in front of her and Morgan found himself admiring her calf-length boots and long legs. "Well, it�s not like he�d personally be handling all these crimes. He has a network of goons to do the dirty work for him."

"Still. You�d always think there was more than one of him." Morgan played with his moustache as he stared at the board. The oldest member of Assistance Unlimited, Morgan was very fastidious about his appearance. His hair was always slicked down and he was never seen without a coat and tie.

Eun stepped forward and tapped one of the photographs attached to the side of the display board. "Why don�t we ask for permission to question some of his men who�ve been busted?"

"Because too many of them are on the turnstile system. They get processed and are back on the street within 24 hours." Morgan shook his head. "The Monster�s got way too many judges and lawyers on his payroll. He�s virtually untouchable. Our best hope is to actually catch him in the act and take him down ourselves."

Samantha was about to suggest that one or more of them should go undercover when Gray�s voice sounded over the building�s intercom system. "All hands to the medical lab, please. We have a new case."

The three of them jumped to action. Morgan pushed the display board into a small closet while Eun summoned the building�s elevator car. He held it open for his associates and pressed the button for the basement sub-level. It was there that Lazarus Gray did autopsies, as well as experiments that would be too dangerous for the upper levels.

"I didn�t even realize the Chief was back," Eun said.

"He�s like a cat," Samantha said with a smile. "Comes and goes as he pleases."

Morgan cleared his throat as the elevator came to a rest. "I figured he�d still be on his date."

"Date?" Samantha asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Didn�t you know?" Morgan asked, knowing quite well that Samantha had been unaware of Gray�s evening plans. Morgan had a growing attraction to Samantha but she�d put a halt to any romantic notions. Though she�d claimed it was simply because she didn�t believe in workplace relationships, he suspected that she was actually harboring a crush on Lazarus Gray. "Lazarus and that Miya girl went out for dinner tonight. Given how crazy she seemed to be about him, I didn�t expect him back so soon."

"Well, just because one person likes another, it doesn�t mean that feeling is reciprocated," Samantha answered frostily.

"Don�t I know it," Morgan muttered under his breath. He noticed that Eun was trying unsuccessfully to hide a smirk and he playfully swatted the younger man on the arm.

The three of them entered the medical lab and were immediately hit by the antiseptic smells that they associated with the room. Lazarus stood next to a body covered by a thin white sheet, wearing a medical smock and gloves. Without any preamble, Gray said, "This man was killed by a toxic formula that ate the skin off his face. It�s a unique compound and I�ve already been in touch with the various chemists in the area. The ingredients that would be needed to make this were bought in bulk less than two weeks ago, with instructions to deliver them to an address on Ferguson Street."

Samantha looked down at the covered corpse and felt a sense of relief that Gray had not left it exposed. "Do you think Doc Pemberley might be involved?"

Gray nodded. "I believe he might be. We know he�s been on the run for the past month or so[1] and this seems like the sort of thing we�d associate with his work. Eun, if you don�t mind, please call the authorities and ask them to pick up this body. Samantha, I�d like you to visit the victim�s office. He was a private investigator and I�d like to know what cases he was working on before he met his demise."

Gray began stripping off his medical gear, tossing the gloves into a trashcan located nearby. "Morgan, you�re with me. We�re going to drop in and pay a visit to our old friend, Doctor Pemberley."

Morgan grinned broadly. "With pleasure, Chief. I owe that kooky old bird a good thrashing."

Melvin Pemberley was fifty years old, though he could pass for a man in his mid-thirties. He was handsome, with shortcut blond hair, blue eyes that resembled chipped polar ice and a coolly efficient manner of conducting himself. He tended to wear white lab coats and was rarely found without a pair of surgical gloves. It was a bit of irony that a man who so often dabbled in blood and guts was uncomfortable getting his hands dirty.

Doc Pemberley was completely amoral. Where the average person would cringe, Pemberley stared unabashed. When a normal man would rush in to save those in need, Pemberley was more apt to pick up a sheet of paper and begin recording the events occurring before him. He had run afoul of the law on numerous occasions since losing his license to practice medicine. Selling his services to anyone who could meet his fee meant that Pemberley not only stitched up gangsters, he also worked on creating chemical weapons. He had fled Sovereign more than once but always ended up returning home. Mr. Skull had come along at the perfect time for Pemberley, giving him steady employment after Assistance Unlimited had smashed his latest scheme.

Ferguson Street was far from being the sort of area where Pemberley preferred to reside. Violence was so routine in this part of the city that no one even looked out the window when screaming or shooting began. Before being discredited, Pemberley had lived in relative luxury but those days were long gone. Now his lab consisted of a converted kitchen and the experimental surgeries he carried out on neighborhood stray animals were far from hygienic in nature.

Pemberley was wiping bloody hands on a filthy smock when a pounding came at his front door. He froze in place, a frown settling on his handsome features. Mr. Skull�s men were the only ones who knew about this hideout and all of them knocked with a special code: two hard and fast beats, followed by three shorter ones. The vile doctor threw a sheet over the suffering creature stretched across the dining room table. He was continuing his experiments related to the grafting of one dog�s head onto a second one�s body and had experienced limited success, with the grafted head living for up to three hours.

After grabbing a small pistol from under a counter, Pemberley cautiously approached the front door. He stepped over to a nearby window and pulled the shade slightly aside, peering outside. To his surprise, he didn�t see anyone there. He was just about to turn back to the kitchen when he felt the cold barrel of a gun press against the back of his head.

"Put the gun down now," Morgan hissed. "Or I�m going to put a new hole in your head."

"Morgan Watts," Pemberley said. "I wish I could say it was a pleasure." The doctor held the gun out from his body and let it dangle from one finger before it fell to the floor. "How did you get inside? I paid for some very expensive locks."

"There�s not a lock in the world that I can�t break," Lazarus Gray said, entering the room. Morgan glanced at him and saw that his employer looked even more grave than usual. "I put down that poor animal in your kitchen, Pemberley. If there�s such a thing as Hell, you�ve confirmed your place in it."

Pemberley quickly spun around, knocking Morgan�s arm aside. He tried to follow it up with a quick punch to the man�s stomach but Pemberley found his arm in Gray�s iron grip. Lazarus applied enough pressure that Pemberley cried out like a child, falling to his knees. Gray maintained his hold on him.

"A man died tonight, the victim of an acid attack. The skin on his face was burned off. Do you know anything about that?"

Gritting his teeth, Pemberley nodded. He was enough of a realist to know when he was licked and in the face of more abuse, he was quite willing to betray anyone and everyone if it might help his own cause. "Mr. Skull paid me to make it for him. He calls it Bone Dust."

Morgan whistled. "I�ve heard of this Mr. Skull guy, Chief, but I figured he was just a story, a kind of urban bogeyman. They say he doesn�t have any face at all � from the neck up, he�s just bones."

"Is that true?" Gray asked, directing the question to Pemberley.

"Yes. Don�t ask me how but it�s the truth. He�s a sadist. He didn�t just want something that would kill, he wanted something horrible."

Most people who met Lazarus Gray thought that he was relatively emotionless but his closest friends knew the truth: Gray felt disgust and remorse just as strongly as they did, perhaps more so. At the moment, Morgan could see in his employer�s eyes that he hated Pemberley with every fiber of his being. Gray raised his free hand and brought it crashing down on the doctor�s head. The blow was enough to knock him out and Gray dropped his hold on him, allowing the villain to fall onto the floor.

"I�ll truss him up," Morgan offered, taking out some extra-strength cord from his pocket. "Should we call Samantha and Eun � tell them to be on the lookout for this Mr. Skull character?"

"Yes. You take of that, if you don�t mind. I�d like to look around this house and make sure that there aren�t any more monstrosities lurking about."

"Did Miya tell you about your past?"

Gray paused, somewhat surprised by the question. But then he knew that his aides were also more than that � they were friends and they were concerned for his wellbeing. "She told me some things but not enough. I know that I was a part of an occult organization with Walther Lunt and that they did some terrible things. I also know that some memories I�d had about an event in Mexico were slightly misleading � which was a good thing. But I still don�t know my name or how much blood might be on my hands. I�d like to think that my participation in the group might have been attributed to some na�vet� on my part and that I left their number when I realized what they were up to� but that might not be the case."

"Well, whatever you did in the past, Chief, it doesn�t define you now. You�ve been given a whole new life and you�ve done so much good since coming to Sovereign that I bet it balances the scales against anything you might have done before."

Lazarus smiled and the sight was so rare that it froze Morgan in the act of tying up Pemberley. "Thank you for that, Morgan. We might have some things in common. Both of us have turned over a new leaf."

Samantha was no stranger to breaking and entering. It was an odd thing, how proficient she had become at such a thing. Growing up in the midst of wealth and luxury, she had never seemed like the kind of girl likely to become adept at picking locks or shimmying in through windows.

Life was strange like that.

Wallace J. Newton�s office had been near the wharf in a rather seedy-looking two-story building. There were three other nameplates on the door outside the building�s entrance, with one of them offering private massage therapy and the other two offering income tax assistance. In all three cases, Samantha was sure that the legality of the services offered was questionable at best.

Newton had apparently never encountered a piece of paper that he deemed worthy of being thrown away. There were mounds of the stuff all over every available surface and Samantha couldn�t be sure where the desk even was at first, though she soon reasoned that it must be located somewhere near the rolling chair that had been converted into a shelf.

Samantha regarded the mess with a stoicism that was reminiscent of her employer. She knew that delaying it wouldn�t improve the situation any, so she simply dove into the task with gusto. In a surprisingly short amount of time, she�d uncovered a small folder filled with information about a man named Mr. Skull. As her eyes scanned the documents, she learned that the mysterious criminal was actually Garrison Montreux, a Canadian who had moved to Sovereign recently. From the looks of things, Newton had become curious about the man after learning that Doc Pemberley was working for him. Samantha couldn�t help but admire Newton for doing this much digging when he wasn�t being paid for it. It must have taken many hours of work: he�d compiled a list of men who worked for Skull, along with their usual haunts and what hours they were there.

A notepad shoved into the folder was filled with Newton�s musings on the matter: again and again, it seemed, he was wrestling with what to do with the information. Like most people in Sovereign, he knew that going to the police was a risky endeavor since at least some of the cops were likely to be crooks themselves. Samantha�s heart skipped a beat when she saw the words Assistance Unlimited followed by a question mark. The words were circled and in red underneath had been hastily scribbled �Yes!� Apparently, Newton had been planning to turn over all this information to Gray at some point.

She heard heavy footsteps and the muted voices of men in the hallway. Quickly shoving the folder into the compact purse she carried, Samantha crawled under the desk as someone pushed open the door. From her vantage point, she could only see the feet of those who entered but it looked like three men. Two sets of legs were in ratty pants and soiled shoes. The man in the front, however, was wearing shoes so highly polished that Samantha was sure she�d be able to see the man�s face in them, had her position been better. His pants, too, were of the highest quality.

"Search the place, boys," the well-dressed man said. "If that private dick had any information on me, I want it now."

"You got it, boss," one of the others answered. As the two men began rifling through boxes and papers, casually tossing them to the floor when they were done with them, Samantha felt a chill go down her back. So this was Mr. Skull� things were beginning to fall into place. Newton was tracking Pemberley, which led him to Skull, who didn�t appreciate the attention. So Mr. Skull had Newton silenced, which inadvertently accomplished what Newton had wanted all along: to bring Skull to the attention of someone who could stop him.

Mr. Skull sauntered over to the window, peering outside. "When we�re done here, we�re headed over to the reservoir."

One of the men paused long enough to ask, "Uh, what for, boss?"

"We�re going to dump some of the Bone Dust into the city�s water supply. By this time tomorrow, we should have a few hundred, if not a thousand, dead. When the citizens of Sovereign see their husbands, wives, children all suffering before their eyes, they�ll be ready to do anything in exchange for an end to it. I�ll be able to name my price."

Samantha�s eyes went wide. What sort of man would do such a thing? She shuddered to think of the horrors that would ensue. It was one thing to murder a grown man like Wallace Newton � but to disfigure and kill children? She bit her lip to keep from crying out in disgust.

Apparently, the acts under discussion gave even Skull�s men reason to pause. The second man, the one who had asked about the reservoir, cleared his throat. "That�s gonna attract all kinds of heat, boss. I mean, it�s not just gonna be the law after us � I bet we�d be dealing with Doc Daye or Assistance Unlimited!"

"Then let them come!" Mr. Skull bellowed, turning to face his men. Something either in his words or demeanor made both men take a few steps away him and Samantha wrinkled her nose. It smelled like something was burning in the room and was she imagining it or did she hear the crackling of flames? "I�m not afraid of them," Mr. Skull continued, lowering his voice. "If they stick their noses in my business, they�ll get their heads handed to �em."

Samantha thought it strange that a French-Canadian should speak with a rough-and-tumble Gangster speech pattern. She slowly reached into her purse, hoping to find one of the small radio communicators that Lazarus had recently given to all members of the group. There were two settings on the device: one that functioned much like a standard walkie-talkie and the other where a silent signal was transmitted to all other devices, alerting them that there was someone in danger. As she grabbed hold of the device, she accidentally bumped her fingers up against a small makeup mirror, which slipped from her purse and fell to the floor. She quickly swiped her hand out to grab hold of it but it had rolled out from under the desk, bumping against the shoe of Mr. Skull.

Samantha quickly pressed the emergency button and sprang into action. She could hear Mr. Skull muttering something as he bent down to pick up the compact mirror and she knew that whatever he was saying, it wasn�t going to be anything good. She rolled out from under the desk, bumping into the rolling chair and sending papers spilling to the floor. By the time Samantha was on her feet, she had already drawn her pistol and was aiming it directly at the closest of the thugs. Without giving him the chance to surrender, she pulled the trigger and a slug slammed itself into his left shoulder, sending him toppling backwards in shock.

It was when she whirled about, intending to threaten Mr. Skull, that she experienced the shock of her young life. Though she�d seen some strange things in recent weeks, the image of a man with a burning skull for a head had to be the most bizarre of all.

"Put the gun down, doll," Skull said. He gestured for his men to retreat out into the hallway. The one who had been shot in the shoulder glared daggers at Samantha as he backed out. "Whom do you work for? Nobody told me that Newton had a secretary."

Samantha refused to cower, even in the face of such horror. "You�re one sick bastard," she hissed.

"Such language," Mr. Skull chided, taking a step toward her. "I bet your parents would be shocked, Miss Grace. That is your name, isn�t it? Now that I get a better look at you, I�m pretty sure I recognize you from the society pages."

"Can�t say that you have a familiar face," Samantha said, cocking her gun. "I can�t even say you have a face at all. Don�t come any closer or I�ll shoot."

The flames danced higher around Skull�s head and he laughed, a rumbling sound that rose up deep in his chest and emerged through his skeletal teeth. "Go ahead and try it." He lunged forward, gripping hold of the desk and tossing it aside. It slammed against the wall, sending papers and pencils flying.

Samantha was true to her word, pulling back on the trigger. The barrel spat out hot metal death, the bullets slamming repeatedly into Mr. Skull�s midsection. He staggered back, grunting with each impact, but when Samantha was out of ammunition, he resumed his approach, backing her up against the wall.

"That wasn�t nice," he whispered, leaning in so close that Samantha feared her hair would be singed from his flames. "Look at me," he demanded. Though she was terrified, she did as he asked, keeping her gaze as steady as possible. "There was a time when dames like you wouldn�t have given me the time of day. But now� now I have girls like you jumping when I snap my fingers."

"It must be because of your rugged good looks," Samantha retorted, sarcasm twisting her words into something ugly.

Skull gripped her around her throat, applying enough pressure that she immediately began struggling to breathe. She raised the gun and slammed the butt of it down against his head, the flames burning her hand in the process. She did it again and again and the villain finally backed away when a crack appeared in his skull. He reached up and lightly touched the affected area, his fingers coming back with splintered bone on their tips. "You little bitch," he hissed. "I�m going to kill you for that."

Samantha�s neck felt like someone had run it through a meat grinder but she could breathe again and that gave her renewed hope. She decided to turn the tables on her foe, rushing toward him and driving a hard kick into his chest. The blow was enough to knock him back and he fell over a stack of papers, landing on his back. She jumped over him and yanked open the door, planning to deal with Skull�s two goons. To her surprise, she saw Eun standing there, the two men unconscious at his feet. He looked up at her and smiled but his grin vanished as Samantha grabbed hold of him and yanked him down the hallway. "Let�s go!" she yelled.

"But what�s going on?" he gasped, struggling to keep up with her. His head jerked around as the door to the office suddenly flew off its hinges and Mr. Skull emerged into the hall. He glared at them, the hollow orbs of his eyes moving from his fallen men to the fleeing members of Assistance Unlimited. "What is that?" Eun wondered aloud.

"Trouble," Samantha replied and Eun had no doubt that she was right about that. The two of them burst out onto the street and were inside one of the company cars within seconds. Samantha slid behind the wheel, starting the engine and slamming her foot down on the accelerator. She cast a quick glance behind them and saw Mr. Skull slowly walking down the building�s front stairs. He and his men watched them go and then headed toward their own vehicle.

"Are they going to come after us?" Eun asked.

"No. They have much worse plans." Samantha smiled at her friend. "Thanks for coming after me."

"You�re welcome. Glad I got there when I did. Your neck looks awful."

"Could have been worse. We need to get the Chief on the horn. That Mr. Skull character is one of the most dangerous we�ve ever faced."

Walther Lunt stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. The right side of his face was a mangled mess of scar tissue, the result of an acid attack. There were some in The Illuminati who whispered that the acid had done more than simply scar Walther�s face: they intimated that it had unhinged his mind, as well.

Those closest to the German, however, knew the truth: Walther had been quite insane even before that. His desire for power and his willingness to do anything to achieve it were traits that had made him a valuable member of his guild and he�d quickly risen through the ranks. His one mistake had been a costly one, however. It had been his decision to recruit the man who had become Lazarus Gray into the secret society, inadvertently creating a terrible enemy.

Lunt turned away from the mirror and strode into the living room of the apartment he was sharing with Miya. Not long ago, he�d been killed in combat with Gray but Miya had been sent by the Illuminati to revive him. Now given a second chance at life, Lunt was eager to make the most of it. He took a peek into the bedroom where Miya lay under the covers. She was nude but all he could see were her bare shoulders and her lustrous dark hair, as she lay facedown. He felt himself stirring with lust for her but he pulled the door closed and tried to forget about the pleasures her flesh could offer him. Like all women who weren�t being paid to share his bed, she regarded his features with barely disguised disdain and that fact soured his lust, turning it into something violent and ugly.

The apartment�s telephone sat on a small table located near a large couch and two adjoining chairs. Lunt sat down on the couch and lifted the receiver, quickly dialing in the phone number for 6196 Robeson Avenue. He wasn�t sure if anyone would answer the phone or if he�d be connected to the automated answering service that Assistance Unlimited possessed but either way, he planned to leave quite a surprise for Lazarus Gray.

Miya�s plan to slowly seduce Gray was a failure in Lunt�s eyes. It was taking far too long and there was no guarantee of success. After all, The Illuminati had authorized her to sleep with him before in the hopes that it would tie Gray to their will, only to find that he was willing to toss aside their relationship in the name of his sickening morality. Lunt had decided that it was now time to roll the dice and take the offensive. Let Gray know the truth: either he would realize his mistake and come back into the fold or he would have made it clear that Lunt needed to kill him.

To his great astonishment, it was Gray himself who picked up on the other end. In grave tones, Lunt�s former associate said, "You�ve reached Assistance Unlimited. How may I help you?"

"Your name is Richard Winthrop. You were born in San Francisco. Both of your parents died when you were in your early teens but they left behind a trust that enabled you to take care of yourself. You graduated with honors from Yale University. The night of your graduation, agents of The Illuminati, who were aware that you showed a curiosity for things of an occult nature, approached you. You were brought onboard with promises of access to hidden libraries scattered across the globe. Of particular interest to you were spells related to the binding and summoning of elder entities. I think you found it appealing to believe that man could harness the powers of the ancients.

There were attempts to subvert you to the ways of the Order but you resisted. In particular, you rebelled at the kinds of blood sacrifices that were required for us to maintain our status. You turned against us and became quite the thorn in our sides. In the end, you snuck onboard a boat headed here to Sovereign, intending to stop one of our operatives from stealing a rare tome from the museum. You were discovered not long after the boat docked in the harbor and suffered a concussion. You managed to escape but you passed out on the shore. One of our men went looking for you, disguised as a member of local law enforcement. That�s the man that you killed, immediately after waking up. Our man on the boat apparently thought it best not to let anyone know that you�d escaped. He told us you were dead and that he�d dumped your body overboard. Imagine my surprise when I saw you here in Sovereign."

If Lunt was expecting Gray to react with shock, he was disappointed by the calm tone of voice that Lazarus used in response. "And the coin that I was holding?"

"The image of the man with the lion�s head is our symbol � and the name that was engraved under the picture was the name of our founder. The real Lazarus Gray died centuries ago."

"I see."

Lunt was about to tease his old foe with more information but to his surprise, he heard the click of the line being disconnected. He stared at the phone for a moment in disbelief. Had Gray actually hung up on him?

He set the phone back into its cradle and looked over his shoulder at Miya, who was stepping from the bedroom. She took one look at the expression on his face and paused. She had only a sheet wrapped around her lithe form but Lunt seemed unaware of how close to being naked she really was.

"What�s wrong?" she asked, her eyes narrowing.

Lunt looked away and for one of the few times in their relationship, Miya realized that he was genuinely afraid. "I think I may have made a terrible mistake."

Lazarus Gray was looking out the window when his aides entered the meeting room. All of them had met up again after their various adventures, exchanging information as they did so. They had warned the authorities to increase security around the water stations for fear of Mr. Skull making good on his earlier schemes.

"Chief?" Samantha asked. "We were waiting outside by the car but you were taking so long that we got worried. Who was it on the phone?"

Gray�s face remained impassive but there was a flicker of emotion in his mismatched eyes. Samantha noticed it but wasn�t sure if it was sadness, anger or excitement, or some combination of all three. When Gray looked at her, all traces of emotion had vanished, leaving his eyes looking as placid as usual. "It was no one important," he said at last. "We shouldn�t waste any more time on that. Let�s go. We have a criminal to catch."

Sovereign City was home to a fairly large airport but it also had a number of private airfields that catered to those rich enough to afford them. Mr. Skull was one of those lucky few and he owned two small planes, both little more than crop dusters but he treasured them both. He�d gotten a pilot�s license before coming to Sovereign and enjoyed the opportunity to take to the skies, where all those below him looked like nothing more than ants.

As he strode into the private hangar where his two planes were housed, the guard who was paid to be on duty stood up quickly. He held a trash pulp magazine in his left hand and cup of coffee in the other. The expression on his face was so sheepish that Mr. Skull was reminded of a little boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"Mr. Skull! I didn�t expect you!"

"Obviously." He peeled off the coat he wore and tossed it to the guard. The act of catching the garment caused him to spill his coffee all over his pants and shoes. "I�m taking her up," Skull said, gesturing to the closer of the two identical planes.

The guard peered outside and noticed that Skull was alone. He had no way of knowing that his employer had dropped off his injured lackey at the hospital, leaving the other man to keep an eye on him. The guard did realize that it was strange to see Mr. Skull out and about without anyone with him.

Skull was already strapping himself in and beginning his pre-flight routine when the guard took a few steps forward. "Sir?" he asked, yelling over the sound of the engines roaring to life.

Skull glanced down at him. He didn�t wear any goggles when flying, since they were rather pointless in his current state. The flickering flame that surrounded his skull usually vaporized any particles or insects that flew too close to his head. "What do you need?" he asked.

"Should I be expecting anyone else? Should I tell them where you�ve gone or when you�ll be back?"

"If anyone comes looking for me, tell them nothing."

The guard backed away quickly as Skull began driving the plane toward the open hatch. He watched as the bizarre figure vanished into the sky, wondering not for the first time how Mr. Skull pulled it off. That was the most realistic mask he�d ever seen. If the guard hadn�t known better, he�d have almost believed that was the man�s actual face�.

Borys had sat in the darkest corner of the Vatican Library that he could find, pouring over the ancient records. He loved books, the feel of the ancient pages against his fingertips lulling him into a sense of security that he found nowhere else. Since the age of 13, when he'd made the decision to pledge his love only to God, he'd found an almost sensual pleasure in the written word. It was his little flirtation on the side, so to speak, giving him something to think about during the long, difficult years of celibacy.

And it was not as if women would have scorned his attentions, had he chosen to pursue them. He was handsome, with classic Polish features and dark hair. It was his eyes, though, that had drawn the most attention from others. Even as a little boy, they could captivate men and women alike. They were so dark that they were almost black, with an intelligence that seemed to be projected from far within.

He�d fled Russia over a decade ago, settling in Canada. He�d made his dream of becoming a priest into reality and it was after one of his services that he�d met a young man with a stout body and a desperate need for acceptance. The young man, along with a few other young ones, had moved under the wing of Borys, believing him when he�d told them of visions he�d had: of a world on the brink of destruction, with ethnic cleansing and the rise of an evil axis of power. The three of them had even followed him here on this trip to Rome, where Borys was convinced that he�d learn the secrets to averting disaster.

"Find anything useful?"

Borys didn't bother looking up from the yellowed papers. "There was a Christian seer in the 14th Century who recounts a vision he had with the Virgin Mary. She allegedly told him that there would come a time of great tribulation, prior to the Second Coming." He cleared his throat before continuing. He adopted the mock professorial style that so greatly annoyed his companion. "The creatures of the pit will rise up and walk alongside the Holy; Men and women of little faith will follow the quick and easy paths, while the true son will face an uphill struggle."

"Typical religious double-talk."

Borys sighed. "Garrison� Why are you here if you don't want to learn?"

Garrison Montreux sat down beside his Borys, looking him square in the eye. Garrison was a much harsher figure than Borys, with a deep scar that lined his left cheek and the weathered appearance of a life-long fighter. It was obvious to everyone who met him that Garrison had to struggle for everything he�d ever gotten and this had hardened him.

"Because you asked me to come."

Borys didn't answer that one. It was true enough, though he would have gladly visited these sacred halls even without a mission at hand. "Where are the others?"

"Valerie and Michael are at the hotel, waiting for us. They're anxious to be gone from here and I don't blame them. This place is an anachronism. It doesn�t have any place in the modern world."

That was too much for Borys to ignore. "Damn you, Garrison! Are you trying to provoke me? I know that you're an atheist but this is the holiest of places! It is home to God's chosen representative and in these books is the wisdom of the ages! There are dark days coming and it is here that we might find the source of inspiration!"

"You really believe that?" Garrison asked. "That the secret to avoiding another world war lies in one of these old books? That's a bit much, don't you think?"

"We've run out of other options, haven't we? Besides, my powers are derived from God himself� if he chooses to reveal the truth to us, this is as likely a place as any."

"Derived from God," Garrison snorted. "What makes you think that? Do you think Doc Daye gets his abilities from the King of the Jews, too?"

"That�s not for me to judge." Borys looked down at his hands. He wore thick cloths tied around each palm, leaving the fingers free. Dark spots in the center of his palm were beginning to spread again. "The stigmata is proof that-"

A book flew off a shelf nearby, landing with a loud thud. Both men were on their feet at once, with Garrison's hand creeping down to the gun he kept holstered beneath his heavy coat.

"What the hell?" Garrison whispered. He looked about the library. "I thought we were alone here."

"We are," Borys replied. He walked over to where the book had fallen and picked it up, staring at its leather-bound cover. Stamped on the front were the words Chaldean Magic. "This is one of the forbidden books� What is it doing here, in the open?"

"Perhaps your God wanted us to find it." Garrison�s voice, though full of sarcasm, also held a note of concern. Borys realized that he felt it too � the sense that something momentous was occurring.

Borys felt along the edge of the book, finding one page that seemed to have been marked somehow with a tiny notch in the top of the vellum. With trembling hands, he opened the tome and began to read�.

"Well?" Garrison prompted.

"It's here," Borys whispered, in a voice full of holy reverence. "God has shown us the way." He held the page up for Garrison to read.

There on the page, amongst various occult diagrams, was a spell entitled The Bonding of Man and Demon. Beneath the spell was a drawing of a demon rising out of the abyss� and the demon�s skull was aflame.

The image shook Garrison to his core and in a moment of supernatural clarity he realized that in these words lay the power he�d always wanted. He�d built his body into something strong and deadly but he�d needed more, which had led him to follow Borys on this wild goose chase.

"Give me the book," Garrison whispered. He reached for it and tried to wrest it free from his mentor�s grasp but Borys held it tight. There was a look of fear in the older man�s eyes.

"No. I don�t like the way your expression changed when you read that page. It�s not healthy for you. Let me keep it."

Garrison snarled like a caged tiger and before he�d even realized what he was doing, he�d drawn back a fist and then slammed it hard into his friend�s face. He repeated the attack several more times until Borys lay quietly on the floor, drops of his blood splattered on the pages of the book.

Garrison had stood there panting for a long minute before grabbing hold of the text and shoving it into his jacket. He had turned to flee, leaving the priest to slowly bleed out. In the book lay power� power that would be his and his alone.

Mr. Skull knew that the reservoir was off-limits now but there had to be some way he could bring death to the citizens of Sovereign. He had finally decided to drop Bone Dust right over downtown. The wind would carry the dust far and wide, spreading it so thin that it might not kill all it touched.

But it would burn and it would scar.

After bonding with the demon that now resided inside him, Garrison had realized what a curse he�d accepted. He was terrifying to behold, which both pleased and repulsed him. He was also driven half-mad by the creature�s voice in his head: it gave him great power and a long leash but it craved death and destruction, both of which Garrison found himself giving it in spades. That was the secret of it all: though he masqueraded as a mobster, Mr. Skull was as much a true killer as he was a criminal. Money was secondary in the end, a distant concern compared to the opportunity to sow terror amongst the innocent.

His plane banked to the west and down below lay the gambling ship known as The Heart of Fortune. It was a little over three miles off the Sovereign coast and the ship�s lights showed that a large crowd of revelers were enjoying themselves. Mr. Skull thought about dropping the Bone Dust here, just a few handfuls, to see what effect it would have on the gamblers. He held off, however, preferring to save it all for the more heavily populated areas. He spurred his plane to greater speeds and within moments land was once more beneath him. He saw the courthouse and city hall up ahead, recognizing them by their distinctive shapes.

To his great surprise, however, something rose up from below, rocketing toward him with tremendous speed. It took him a moment to realize that it was a small rocket fired from a bazooka � Mr. Skull had read up on the devices and knew that they�d first appeared on the scene back in the Great War. Originally known as Rocket-Powered Recoilless Weapons, they were quite deadly � sometimes as much so for the one firing it as the one on the receiving end.

Mr. Skull tried to avoid the missile but it came at him too quickly, shearing off the plane�s left wing and sending him hurtling toward the ground with smoke and fire trailing after him.

Skull unbuckled his seat restraint and began to crawl from his seat even as his plane hurtled to its destruction. He was going to come down on a large hill overlooking downtown, part of a district that mixed various small businesses with homes. Whether by divine providence or simple luck, the plane was on a direct course with a large playground and park that was currently empty.

Skull threw himself away from the plane, landing in a roll that carried him in the opposite direction from the crash. He felt the impact through the ground and felt the rush of heat as the gas tank exploded, but he was unharmed, aside from a few rips in his clothing. He patted his pockets and found that the vials of Bone Dust had not been shattered.

Standing up, he quickly looked around for the source of the attack. He didn�t have to look far. The members of Assistance Unlimited were less than a hundred feet away and the man known as Lazarus Gray was dropping a bazooka to the ground. Morgan and Samantha both had handguns drawn, while Eun was standing relaxed but obviously ready for combat.

"Garrison Montreux," Lazarus said. "Surrender now or I cannot promise that your life will be spared."

Mr. Skull gestured around at the houses and businesses. "You�re really going to do this here? What about all the people who might get hurt?"

"All evacuated." Gray�s mismatched eyes glittered with cold humor. "Once Miss Grace had surmised who you really were and informed us of your plans to commit mass murder, I began to look into your business holdings. It didn�t take much digging to find out that you owned two planes, housed at a private airfield."

"And you just happened to have a weapon like that?" Skull laughed hoarsely. "Gray, you�re a real piece of work."

"Can�t I shoot him, Chief?" Morgan grinned like a wolf. "He�s not going to surrender, you can tell."

Mr. Skull�s head was now fully ablaze and it was so bright that it nearly equaled that of the burning plane. "Bullets won�t hurt me. The girl knows that." He cracked his knuckles and began moving toward them. "I�m going to enjoy this."

Eun rushed forward, moving with the speed of a panther. He caught Mr. Skull in the midsection with a flurry of punches, followed by a hard kick to the villain�s knee. In an ordinary man, such an attack would have left him writhing in agony. But Mr. Skull was not like other men. He struck back quickly, backhanding Eun so hard that the young Korean was lifted off his feet. Eun cried out as he landed right atop Samantha, knocking them both on their backs.

Morgan knelt quickly at their sides, checking to make sure they weren�t badly wounded. Eun was groggy and suffering from a mild concussion but Samantha looked merely stunned.

Gray had taken in all of that with a mere glance. He turned away from them, focusing all of his attention on Mr. Skull. The villain was laughing again, an eerie sound that combined with the horrific nature of his appearance, making the entire scene appear quite surreal.

Skull threw a powerful left-handed punch but Gray caught it, knocking it aside with the back of his hand. Before Skull could attack again, Gray had pushed both hands under the man�s armpits and pushed, momentarily knocking the fiery killer off-balance. Gray danced around his foe, wrapping his powerful arms around Mr. Skull�s midsection. He held on with all his strength as Skull began trying to free himself.

Keeping his head just out of the range of the villain�s flickering flames, Gray lowered his voice and whispered, "You don�t strike me as an occultist, Mr. Montreux. If I had the time, I�d love to know how you managed to turn yourself into this monstrosity� but in the end, it doesn�t matter. You�re a threat to everyone you come into contact with."

"I�m going to pour the Bone Dust right down your throat!" Mr. Skull bellowed.

"No. You�re not. Enigha m�luktu omnarium. Varily�u fedda b�eginas!"

The strange words that Lazarus Gray said were delivered almost under his breath and yet all of his aides, even battle wounded Eun, reacted to them. They saw their employer�s emerald colored eye glow brightly as he said those awful phrases. These were words that were part of a lost tongue, ancient even when Atlantis sank beneath the waves. They were a litany of power, spoken by men who had bartered their souls for the dark gifts. It terrified them to know that Lazarus Gray knew them.

The flames around Garrison�s head began to die out and the light in his empty sockets dimmed. He began to cry out in alarm and pain but his words were gibberish, bundled up in shock and horror. When the final flame died out, he slumped in Gray�s grasp, his soul having been driven from its mortal shell. To the nether realms the demon had been banished once more and to the dark, stygian depths of Hell went the soul of Garrison Montreux.

It was Morgan who found the courage to ask what they were all thinking. "Chief� What the heck were those things you were saying?"

Gray set down Mr. Skull�s body with far more dignity than Eun thought it deserved. "It was a spell from a book entitled Chaldean Magic. There are only a handful of copies in existence so I�m not quite sure where he would have found one. When I saw his physical appearance, I recognized what spell had been used." Gray noticed that his friends were watching him with shocked expressions and his normally emotionless face relaxed a bit, soothing their concerns. "I used to be a specialist in spells relating to the binding and summoning of demons. I�d forgotten that until earlier this evening. That phone call I received back at HQ sparked something in me."

Samantha, leaning against Morgan for support, asked, "So do you remember anything else?"

"Several things."

"Do you know your real name?"

Gray paused, his gaze shifting away from Samantha�s. He appeared to be considering something quite important and when he spoke, his words carried great conviction. "Yes. I do. It�s Lazarus Gray."

Miya was furious as she hurried down the stairs to the waiting taxi. The driver had been given instructions to take her directly to the airport, where she had plans to fly back to Europe. She was going to inform the rest of The Cabal that Walther had ruined her plans and betrayed valuable information to the man once known as Richard Winthrop.

She carried her heavy bags out to the car and set them down, expecting the driver to get out and help her. When he didn�t, she moved around to look at him. He was lying unconscious behind the wheel, a nasty looking bruise on his left temple.

"Miya. Don�t move."

The cool barrel of a gun pressed against the back of her head and Miya�s shoulders slumped. "Lazarus. Or do you prefer Richard now?"

"Lazarus will do. Where�s Walther?"

"Gone. Now that you know who you are, he believes we won�t be able to recruit you. He�s going to kill you. That�s what he wanted to do all along."

"And you?"

Miya did turn now, staring past the gun into the eyes of the man she used to regard as a lover. "I�m loyal to The Illuminati but I do care for you. I want you to be with me. I know that you�ve always been uncomfortable with some of their methods but I think we can change them from within. This organization has been around for centuries. It can�t be destroyed � the best we can do is try to mold it."

Gray�s face betrayed no emotion whatsoever. "I don�t remember everything, Miya, but I remember enough. That group is evil. They want to control the minds of men and women throughout the world. I can�t let that happen."

"Are you willing to kill me?"

"I�d like to see you brought to justice."

"But there�s no crime you can pin on me. If you turn me over to the authorities, I�ll be free by the end of the night."

"I know that. And that�s why I�m going to let you go."

Miya couldn�t hide her surprise but she recovered quickly. "You do love me, don�t you?"

Gray gave a curt shake of his head. "That�s not why I�m allowing you to walk free. Like you said, there�s only so much I can do to hold you legally. So this is what I want to do: I know you�ve bought tickets on a plane headed to London. I want you to go there and I want you to tell The Illuminati that I�m watching them. I plan to destroy their organization piece-by-piece and brick-by-brick. If they stay out of Sovereign, they might last a bit longer� but if they force my hand, I won�t rest until every last one of you is dead. Do you understand?"

Miya saw nothing in his eyes to suggest that he didn�t mean every word that he said. She shivered and wasn�t sure if it was because a soft drizzle had begun to fall or if it was because she was staring at a man who had just sworn her eventual destruction. "I don�t want us to be enemies, Lazarus."

"Then you need to turn against the people you work with."

"I can�t do that. It�s madness to fight them."

Lazarus took a step back, lowering his weapon. "Then get out of my sight. And never come back."

Miya looked like she wanted to say more but in the end, she merely returned to loading her bags into the car. When she was done, she turned to look at Lazarus one last time�

But he had vanished, as quietly and as quickly as a fading memory.

It was nine o�clock in the evening and a man sat in his office, reading a newspaper.

There were several factors that made this simple-sounding scene remarkable: the location of his office, the headline on the newspaper�s front page, and the man himself.

The man in question was tall and well sculpted. His hair was mostly gray though there were patches of brown interspersed. Despite the salt-and-pepper hair, he was in his late twenties and obviously quite vital and strong. His face was set in grim determination and his eyes were startling. One of his eyes was a dusky, dull brown in color while the other was emerald green.

He was Lazarus Gray, known and far wide as the founder of Assistance Unlimited. A mysterious stranger who had literally washed up on the shores of Sovereign City, Gray�s memory was a series of patchwork images, providing him with only the barest knowledge of who he had once been. Having awakened with a bronze medallion in his possession, depicting the image of a nude man with the head of a lion and the words "Lazarus Gray" imprinted beneath it, he had chosen the name as his own.

The place in which Gray sat was a former hotel located on Robeson Avenue. Three stories tall, the building contained numerous offices, labs and meeting rooms, as well as living quarters for the four members of the squad.

Two of those members were in the room with Gray now: Eun Jiwon, a Korean youth with dark hair and angry eyes, stood with arms folded while Samantha Grace, a stunning blonde with peaches-and-cream skin, sat perched on the side of Gray�s desk, long legs crossed in front of her.

"What do you think, Chief? Is this something we ought to look into?" Eun asked. Given the expression on his face and the tension in his slender body, it was obvious where his opinion on the matter lay.

Gray�s eyes flicked to Eun, studying him before returning to the printed page. The headline of The Sovereign Gazette was printed in bold type and Gray knew that it was bound to sell quite a few copies:

Accompanying the text was a pen and ink drawing of a shadowy figure menacing an attractive young woman in torn stockings and ripped blouse. Though the artist�s name was not given, Gray assumed it was Howard Bloomberg, who usually handled the paper�s political cartoons.

The article described, in typically lurid fashion, how three young girls had left a basketball game around 7:30 pm, intending to walk each other home. Less than a mile from the arena, the three women (who were described as "nubile" no less than four times over the course of the article) experienced a tremendous shock when a man wearing a thin mask over his face rushed them from a dark alleyway. The man was brandishing a bloodstained axe, which he used to attack the girls. There was no conversation on the part of the man and he didn�t make any attempt to rob them. Two of the girls were left with wounds to their hands, torsos and faces but the third was killed via decapitation. As the paper made sure to point out, this was the sixth murder at the hands of the so-called Axeman in the last month. So far, the victims had included a wealthy banker and his wife, a nine-year old boy and an elderly woman.

Gray set aside the newspaper and stood up, pushing his hands into the front pockets of his slacks. He was wearing a white shirt, a red tie and black trousers. Leather gloves covered his hands, preventing him from leaving fingerprints on anything that might become evidence. "Business is slow otherwise, so I think we can spare the time to investigate these attacks."

Samantha arched an eyebrow, sensing that her employer was engaging in what � for him � was a rare feat. He was making a joke.

Assistance Unlimited did take on cases from the general public, charging only what their customers could afford. But they were all wealthy enough that they didn�t really need the money. The group did its work because it was the right thing to do.

"I�ve found something interesting about the Axeman, Chief," Samantha said. She patted a small pile of papers that she�d brought with her to the meeting. "There�s a lot of similarities to a series of attacks that took place in New Orleans from May 1918 through October 1919."

Lazarus picked up the papers and quickly looked through them. "Any chance that the same man is behind both sets of attacks?"

"Possible. Nobody ever caught the New Orleans killer. But maybe it�s a copycat."

Gray devoured the information in the press clippings, dissecting the articles and filing the information into the steel trap that was his mind. The Axeman of New Orleans had terrorized the city for nearly 18 months but his identity was never uncovered and the attacks ended as mysteriously as they began. The savagery and utter randomness of the attacks understandably caused great panic. There were even comparisons of the killer to the notorious Jack the Ripper, as the Axeman (or something claiming to be him) wrote a series of taunting letters to the newspapers hinting at his future crimes and claiming to be a supernatural demon "from Hell."

"Curious," Gray murmured under his breath. "Good work, Samantha."

The pretty blonde blushed at the compliment and nodded. "So what�s our next step?"

Gray turned his face toward a map of the city that took up a good portion of the wall. "There doesn�t appear to be any rhyme or reason to the attacks and they�ve been scattered throughout the city. The first thing we need to do is speak to one of the survivors and find out all they can remember about the Axeman. I don�t trust the police reports or the journalists to have done their jobs accurately." He looked back at his aides. "Samantha, please visit the hospital and speak to one, if not both, of the girls who was attacked last evening. Eun, you�ll come with me. I have a few leads of my own to follow up on. When do we expect Morgan back?"

The corners of Samantha�s mouth turned downward. It was one of the worst kept secrets in the world that she and Morgan Watts had a hot-and-cold relationship. Morgan had tried to steer their friendship toward a romantic one but Samantha had rejected his advances, straining things between them. Now they alternated between flirting and giving each other the cold shoulder. Morgan�s decision to take out a young woman of Samantha�s acquaintance on a date this evening hadn�t helped matters but Eun was of the opinion that Morgan was simply trying to make Samantha jealous. "Who knows?" Samantha asked, trying a bit too hard to make it look like she didn�t care. "Should I call him in?"

"Let him relax for now," Gray answered. The stoic leader of Assistance Unlimited reached over and turned off one of the lamps that illuminated the room. "Let�s go find us a killer."

The Heart of Fortune was anchored three and a half miles off the coast of Sovereign City. With a crew of 300 people and enough space to accommodate another 2,000 in guests, the ship was a masterpiece of gaudy elegance. Morgan Watts loved it and he could sense that his date for the occasion, Molly Sims, was equally entranced. The gambling ship was one of the most popular attractions in the city and catered to the high rollers. Morgan earned a nice living working for Assistance Unlimited and he didn�t have many expenses since he lived at their headquarters, so splurging on a night like this was well within his means.

Morgan held Molly�s hand as they exited the dance floor, which was packed with partiers who couldn�t get enough of Joe �Monarch� Redfern and his orchestra. Molly loved to dance but Morgan was eager to move on to other pleasures. The siren call of the grand casino was luring him in that direction but as he glanced at Molly, he caught sight of the fine sheen of sweat on her bare shoulders and he realized he might strike the jackpot in more ways than one tonight.

Molly was an attractive girl with red hair, green eyes and a fine spray of freckles that covered her cheeks. Her father was in real estate and was a good friend of Samantha�s parents, which was how Morgan had ended up becoming acquainted with her. "This is fun," Molly said between gasps of air. She sat down heavily in her chair and grinned, looking far younger than her twenty-five years of age. "I can�t believe you�re not even breathing fast. How do you do it?"

"Lazarus keeps us all in tip-top shape," Morgan replied, sitting across from her and gesturing for a waiter to bring them both a drink. "I do more calisthenics than a fresh army recruit."

"Well, it certainly keeps you trim," she said admiringly.

Morgan accepted the compliment with a smile, reaching out to squeeze Molly�s knee with his right hand. "Well, you make me feel a good ten years younger than I actually am."

Molly looked up as the waiter set a drink down in front of her. She took a sip, wincing a bit as the alcohol burned its way down her throat. "I�m not going to get you in trouble with Sam, am I?"

Morgan�s hand drifted away from her knee. "What? Of course not. We�re just friends."

"That�s what both of you say but I�m not sure I believe it."

Morgan couldn�t quite hide the eagerness in his voice. "Really? What�s she said about me?"

Molly laughed gently. "Next to nothing. That�s the point."

"I don�t get it."

"You�re a man," Molly pointed out. "You�re all a bit clueless when it comes to these things."

Morgan replied with a grunt. He couldn�t really argue what she was saying � when it came to understanding women, he was in the same boat as most men in the world: he couldn�t fathom what went on in their pretty little heads. He was spared from having to admit such by a sudden murmuring amongst the crowd. He craned his head to see whose arrival was having such an effect. He saw two men pushing their way out of the casino. One of them wore a tattered top hat, a threadbare coat and vest and dark trousers. His skin was so dark that it made his eyes and teeth look gleaming white in comparison. He carried a gnarled walking stick in his left hand and muttering angrily under his breath. He looked to be in his early fifties though there was something about him that made Morgan wonder if he wasn�t much older than that.

Trailing along behind was one of the most massive brutes that Morgan had ever seen. The man wore heavy work boots and overalls. A stained white shirt peeked out from beneath the overalls and the man�s fingers were so filthy that Morgan wondered if he�d washed them any time in the current decade. The man had to be nearly seven feet tall, with shoulders so broad that even Morgan, who had spent a lifetime around heavy bruisers, was impressed. But it was the mask the man wore that caused such a ripple through the crowd. It was wrapped around his bald head with heavy leather straps, leaving a plastic covering over his face. It was shaped like a human face, with a nose, curved lips and gentle indentions around the two holes that allowed the man�s eyes to peer out at the world.

"My gosh," Molly whispered. "Why is he dressed like that?"

"I don�t know," Morgan answered. "Could be that he�s disfigured and thinks that mask would disturb people less than seeing what�s underneath."

Molly shivered. "I find that hard to believe."

The two men came to a stop not far from their table and the man in the top hat began to smile, his eyes widening at the sight of Morgan. "Mr. Watts?" he asked, speaking in an oily sort of voice. It reminded Morgan of a snake oil salesman, about to launch into a pitch for his newest product.

Morgan could feel Molly�s gaze on him, wondering how he could possibly know these two men. He wondered that himself. "Yes. Can I help you?"

"Perhaps you can. Yes, perhaps you can, indeed." Without being asked, the man pulled out an empty chair at the table and sat down in it. The masked brute remained standing, though he came closer so that he stood directly behind his friend. Morgan sniffed delicately, aware that the big man stank to high heaven. The black man in the top hat didn�t seem to notice. He swept the hat off his head and set it on the table between Molly and Morgan. "You can call me Mr. Dinkins. The big fella is named Muggsy."

"That�s an unusual name," Molly whispered, sliding closer to Morgan. She seemed to be begging him with her eyes, pleading with him to ask Dinkins and his companion to leave. Morgan sympathized but his curiosity wouldn�t allow it.

"Nobody knows his real name," Dinkins said. "He just showed up one day and we all took to calling him Muggsy. It�s a joke, you see. Because his mug is so damned ugly we have to make him wear a mask."

Morgan was growing increasingly disturbed by the smell emanating from Muggsy. "I�m actually here on a date so if you want to talk business, you either need to make it fast or call Assistance Unlimited and make an appointment."

"I apologize for having interrupted," Dinkins said. "But I do think that my case might be the sort of thing that you�d taken an interest in. You see, my friend and I traveled all the way from New Orleans. We�re looking for a young woman, little more than a girl really, named Monique. She took something that rightfully belongs to me and I don�t take kindly to thieves, I can tell you that. In the weeks that Muggsy and I have been here, we�ve heard that she�s been around but haven�t been able to find her. So I said to Muggsy, let�s hire Assistance Unlimited to help us. But I figured that your boss must be an expensive fella so we came here to try and win us enough money to make it worth his while."

"From the way you exited the casino, I gather your plan didn�t work out?"

Dinkins drew an ugly face. "The games are rigged," he said in disgust.

Morgan doubted that. Everything he�d heard said that Fortune McCall ran as clean an establishment as any in the country. "We don�t normally track down thieves. Maybe you�d be better off going to the police. They�re bound to be cheaper anyway."

"Ah, but this is no ordinary theft." He began unbuttoning the vest that he wore under his threadbare coat. When Molly shifted uncomfortably, he offered a wan smile. "My apologies, my lady, but I have to show this so that your paramour will understand." Once the vest was pulled away, Morgan saw a bandage over the man�s heart. Blood had seeped through the bandage and the medical tape used to hold it in place looked like it was about to give way.

Morgan narrowed his eyes. "I�m not following you. She attacked you when she stole this item?"

"It was a necessary part of the theft," Dinkins answered. He tore away the bandage and revealed a gaping hole in his chest. The sight was enough to cause Molly to scream out loud. She stood up so quickly that she knocked her chair to the floor and Morgan was upright just as fast, catching her and turning her face so that the girl could bury it in his neck. Dinkins� smile never wavered during all of this. "Look closely, mon ami. That clever girl cut my heart out and took it with her!"

Samantha gently opened the hospital room door and peered inside. A young woman named Tracy Gethers lay in the bed, swathed in bandages. Her mother sat in a chair nearby, her eyes shining wetly with tears and a crumpled tissue in one hand. The mother looked up when Samantha stepped inside.

"Are you a friend of Tracy�s?" the woman asked. Her voice sounded hoarse with emotion and Samantha felt out of place. She�d known why Lazarus had tasked her with this job, though: Eun was a foreigner and Morgan, if he had been available, was a bit too gruff for this kind of work.

"No, ma�am. My name is Samantha Grace and I work for Assistance Unlimited. Have you heard of us?"

"Of course I have. I�ve seen Mr. Gray in the papers. But we�ve already given a statement to the police and Tracy needs her rest. Besides, I don�t have any money to pay you."

Samantha smoothed out her skirt and shook her head. "We don�t want any money. Sometimes we take cases just because it�s the right thing to do."

"Well," the mother said uncertainly, "I don�t think Tracy could tell you anything she didn�t already tell the police so I�m going to have to ask you to leave."

"Momma, let her stay. Please. I don�t mind talking some more."

Samantha turned to look at Tracy, who was staring out her from beneath the bandages on her face. The girl was slight of build and, from what Samantha had been told, had possessed a fragile beauty. Unfortunately, the wounds to her face were going to rob her of that. "Thank you," Samantha said gratefully, coming to sit on the edge of Tracy�s bed.

"Well� don�t tucker yourself out." Tracy�s mom stood up and moved toward the door. "I�m going to grab some fresh air but I�ll be right back. Is that okay?"

"Sure, momma." When her mother was gone, Tracy lowered her voice conspiratorially. "She doesn�t want to hear it all again. I think it�s harder on her than it is on me."

Samantha smiled, realizing that she liked Tracy already. "Well, we can stop whenever you need to. I really don�t want to interfere with your rest."

"You�re sweet but don�t worry about me. I may look a fright in this mummy makeup but I�m okay. I was pretty scared at the time but I�m bouncing back quick. I just feel terrible about Janice. She was a nice girl and her daddy sure did love her. I bet he�s a wreck right now."

Samantha couldn�t help but be impressed. Less than 24 hours after being brutally attacked, Tracy was more focused on the suffering of others than what she was going through herself. "The newspaper said the Axeman didn�t try to steal anything from you. Is that true?"

"It is. He just came at us screaming those nonsense words and then started swinging that axe."

Samantha blinked in surprise. "He talked to you? The paper said he didn�t say anything."

Tracy snorted in an unladylike way but it drew a laugh from Samantha. "They also said we were �nubile beauties.� No, he did say some things to us but it didn�t make any sense."

"Can you remember what it was?"

"Let me think� I believe it was something like �O� est son coeur? Dites-moi donc je ne peux cesser de tuer!�"

"That�s a lot better than I was expecting," Samantha admitted.

"I�ve always had a good memory for things like that. I suppose it might have been French but it was spoken with such a thick accent that I�m not sure. He sounded like one of those French people from the Bayou."

"A Cajun?"

"Yes! That�s it!" Tracy sat up in bed, visibly excited. "Do you know what it means?"

Samantha nodded. She was fluent in five different languages and French was one of her strongest. "Roughly translated, it means �Where is his heart? Tell me so I can stop killing.� Doesn�t make any more sense now that you know what he was saying, does it?"

"No, it doesn�t. I guess he�s just a lunatic."

"Maybe so." Samantha patted Tracy�s leg and stood up. "I think you helped me. Thanks for your time."

Tracy shook her head. "I don�t know how. But I hope all of you catch him. He�s too dangerous to stay on the loose."

Samantha paused at the door. "If there�s anybody alive who can capture him, it�s Lazarus Gray. When you�re out of the hospital, give me a call at the office. If you�re interested, we might find some work for you. You seem like you have the right kind of spirit for what we do."

Tracy nodded. "I just might do that. Thank you."

Samantha exited the room, running the Axeman�s words through her head. What did it mean? She couldn�t wait to get back to the office and compare notes with the others.

Monique DuChamp was a beautiful young woman. She had long curly black hair that fell around her shoulders and her skin was a rich caramel color that evoked both sides of her ancestry. Her father had been a black farmer in New Orleans while her mother had been a white woman who had fled an abusive husband up north. They�d raised Monique in a house filled with laughter and love but none of that had stopped their little girl from falling in with the wrong crowd. She�d always been sensual, even as a young child, and when she began turning into a woman, she attracted the attentions of many men, including Mr. Dinkins. He�d introduced her to drugs and sexual magic, using both to achieve their separate aims: Dinkins had gotten the chance to indulge his lusts with a ripe young girl and Monique had gotten a taste of true power.

It was a heady time for both, with each striving for more and more. Monique played with her sexuality, using it to lull Dinkins into a false sense of security. Then one night while he�d slept, she�d bound his hands to the bed and carved his heart right out from his chest. It had been bloody, disgusting work but Monique hoped it would propel her into a new level of existence.

Unfortunately, it hadn�t been quite so simple. Monique had read in one of the old man�s books that the heart of a sorcerer could be a potent thing: if ground into a powder, it could impart knowledge upon anyone who ingested it; if carried on your person, it could keep you young and vital; and if set aflame during a full moon, it could summon an ancient entity who would answer any three questions for you. Monique had decided to take the young and vital option for now � she could always ground it up or burn it later on.

But Dinkins was too powerful to be so easily killed. He still lived through magical means and he�d set Muggsy on her trail. They�d pursued her all the way to Sovereign and Monique was fearful that it was only a matter of time before they caught up to her.

Monique lay atop a soft bed now, her nude young body barely visible in the dim lighting that drifted in from the window. The man she�d picked up in the hotel bar was undressed in front of her, his eyes glued to her curves. He was a big man with a barrel chest and massive biceps. He had a vaguely Cro-Magnon look to him but Monique didn�t mind that: intelligence wasn�t high on the list of attributes she was seeking at the moment.

The man kicked off his pants and moved to the bed, crawling over her on all fours. "I�ve never been with a Negro before," he whispered and Monique felt her skin crawl. She accepted his passionate kiss, trying to pretend that the way his tongue plunged into her mouth excited her. She reached one hand under her pillow and slowly pulled out a large knife. She waited until her would-be lover was kissing her neck to raise the blade and plunge it into the side of his neck. He screamed and jerked away but Monique worked fast, slicing through his neck. Blood spurted over her breasts and his hands flew up to try and cover his wound. He thrashed a bit as she pushed him onto his back.

Monique slid off the bed and pulled on her underwear, letting him bleed out. Her purse was stuffed full of the things she would need but she felt a rush of nervousness, having never performed this ritual before. It was going to be necessary, though, she knew that.

If Dinkins had Muggsy, then Monique would need a champion of her own. She smiled at the dying man, her fear beginning to slowly turn into excitement.

"Time to get to work," she said aloud.

"What is this place?" Eun asked, standing uncomfortably in the front room of the privately owned building. There were chicken bones hanging from the ceiling, along with living birds stuffed into cages. The room was lit by candlelight and there was a peculiar odor in the air that reminded him of the one time he�d visited a Korean holy man before his family had moved to the United States. There were piles of trash in every corner of the room and Eun was positive that he saw rat droppings on the floor. "I�m surprised it hasn�t been condemned."

"It is my home. Do not be rude." An old man entered the room and Eun noticed that he was blind, with a long beard that nearly reached the floor. He walked with a cane held in front of him, moving gently to and fro. His clothes were all black, save for a white button up shirt and white socks. If he�d held a tin cup in his free hand, Eun wouldn�t have been surprised. He looked like the stereotypical blind peddler. "What do you want, Gray? I thought our business was finished."

"I�m afraid not," Gray replied, watching as the old man shoved a pile of garbage out of a chair and sat down heavily. "The young man with me is-"

"Eun Jiwon. I know." The old man smiled, revealing crooked teeth. "All your associates are known to me. Once I enter into business with someone, I take it upon myself to learn all that I can about them." He turned blind eyes toward Eun. "My name is Ebenezer Smith. I�m also known as The Information Broker."

Eun blinked in surprise. He�d heard of The Information Broker � a shadowy figure who knew everything, for a price. It was said that finding out how to contact him was only half the battle: the other was in convincing him that your money or your case was interesting enough to warrant his attention.

"Surprised that I�m a blind man, living in a hovel?"

"Yes, actually."

Ebenezer sniffed disdainfully. "Only one of us is truly blind. I am rich beyond your imaginings."

Eun looked around doubtfully but said nothing.

"So. The last time you were here you wanted me to verify certain things about your past." Ebenezer cleared his throat. "So what is it this time?"

Lazarus glanced at Eun. "The Broker was quite useful. He found quite a bit about Richard Winthrop�s life, before and after he fell in with The Illuminati."

Eun once again bit his tongue. All of the aides had noticed Gray�s new habit of referring to his old life in the third person. It was like he was regarding Richard Winthrop as a separate entity from himself.

Gray removed a small vial of what appeared to be blood, stepping forward to push it into Ebenezer�s hand. The old man removed the stopper from the vial and raised it to his nostrils, sniffing it and nodding.

"This is more than enough for almost anything, I�d wager," Ebenezer said, replacing the stopper and setting it on a crowded table at his side. "What do you need to know?"

"There were a series of murders in New Orleans almost twenty years ago and now a similar set are occurring here in Sovereign City. I was wondering if you knew anything about them."

"Ah," Ebenezer said, his lips stretching wide. "You want to know about the Slashers."

"The Axeman," Eun corrected.

Ebenezer shrugged his bony shoulders. "Same thing."

Gray crouched in front of him, studying the blind man�s features. "Tell me everything."

"For as long as there have been men who sought power through sorcery, there have been Slashers. They�ve been known by different names in different times but they�re always men or women who have been transformed into killing machines, subject to the whims of their masters. They kill for two reasons: because someone tells them to and because they must. They no longer eat or drink as we do, they feed off the life essence of those they kill. Using them as foot soldiers is good because they won�t stop moving after their target but it�s also dangerous: they have to kill again and again, which can lead to unwanted attention. Jack the Ripper was a Slasher in service to a man named William Gull. And the Axeman of New Orleans was a Slasher, too."

"Is it the same one that�s killing people here in Sovereign?"

"Could be. But it doesn�t matter. They�re a Slasher, which is all you need to know. The Slasher is dangerous, of course, but the one pulling the strings is even more so."

Eun could no longer maintain his silence. "So the one who wrote the papers as Jack the Ripper � was that the Slasher or the mastermind?"

Ebenezer turned blind eyes toward Eun. "Boy, it doesn�t matter. Jack the Ripper isn�t here, now is he? All that matters is there�s a killer out there and he�s going to be damned tough to defeat. Just like they don�t eat or drink like we do, they don�t die like we do. They�re stronger and more resistant to pain."

Gray reached out and lightly touched Ebenezer�s shoulder. "Is there anything else you can tell us? Is there a way to easily trace who�s behind all this?"

"That shouldn�t be too hard. Just look in your own home."

Morgan Watts led Mr. Dinkins and Muggsy into the headquarters of Assistance Unlimited. He�d hated to cut short his date with Molly but meeting a man with no heart took precedence over a night out and he hoped she�d understand that. If not, that was too bad for her. Morgan considered his job with Lazarus Gray to be one of the most important things in his life and any partner of his would simply have to understand that.

The group�s headquarters was based in an old hotel and there were facets of its old purpose still on display. One such item was the clerk�s desk, where once upon a time men and women stepped up to check on their reservations. Morgan stepped around this desk while Dinkins and Muggsy stared at their surroundings. Morgan checked a small magnetic board attached to the back of the desk. On the board were written the names of Assistance Unlimited�s agents, with two columns drawn next to them: In and Out. Small black dots could be slid back and forth as necessary. Morgan wasn�t surprised to see that all the dots were currently in the Out column. He slid his own to In and sighed.

"Lazarus and the others are out right now but you can wait in the next room. I�ll bring you some coffee if you want."

"Thank you, Mr. Morgan." Dinkins took his hat off and held it with both hands. "I do appreciate you bringing us here. I know that you were involved with what promised to be an entertaining evening."

Morgan tried not to show his chagrin at the reminder. "Don�t worry about it. Go on and have a seat." He gestured toward an open door that led into a small waiting area. There were several plush chairs set against the wall and a table in the center with magazines of all types arranged around a floral centerpiece. As with most things of an aesthetic nature in the building, it was Samantha�s handiwork. Eun and Morgan had no eye for such things and though Lazarus was incredibly well read and quite aware of appearances, he stepped aside and let Samantha use her skills whenever necessary.

Once Dinkins and his oversized companion was out of sight, Morgan activated the small handheld communications device that all members of the team carried these days. It had two settings: one for radio conversation and another that simply sent an emergency signal to the other devices. In this case, Morgan opted for the latter. He wasn�t sure why he erred on the side of such caution but he didn�t want Dinkins listening in to any conversation that he might have. He didn�t trust either of his guests and it wasn�t simply the fact that a shiver went down his spine every time he visualized the old man�s wounded chest. There was something more at work here and he hadn�t liked the way that Dinkins� eyes had lit up at the suggestion of coming here.

Still, Morgan felt better having them in a place he considered safer than Fort Knox. He moved into the small office behind the desk, preparing a fresh cup of coffee and was just beginning to wonder what Samantha was up to. She�d seemed unaffected by his news that he was going out on a date with Molly, which had both surprised and disappointed him. There was a big part of him that just wanted to give up on any chance of a love affair with her but he just couldn�t bring himself to do it. He knew she was right: workplace romances were almost never a good idea. Besides that, there was the age difference. Morgan was in his forties and Samantha was barely past twenty. It might not cause problems right now but where could they go from here? What if she wanted children? Could he really deal with fatherhood when turning fifty lay just around the bend for him?

He was so lost in thought that he almost didn�t hear the sound of the waiting room door opening and closing. It was done quite quietly but all the members of Assistance Unlimited were trained to sense danger in all its forms. He stepped back out to the desk to see what was going on and quickly stopped in his tracks. Muggsy was standing with a large axe held in his right hand. The blood caked blade dangled against his leg and the big man�s eyes shone out from behind his mask with murderous intent.

Mr. Dinkins stood just to the left of Muggsy, a peculiar look on his face. He sounded apologetic as he said, "I�m sorry about this, Mr. Watts. You�ve been quite good to us and I�d hoped that what happened last night would slake his thirst for the time being. But our Muggsy needs a lot of blood to keep his strength up. And, just between you and me, I think he simply likes the killing."

Morgan reached into his jacket and withdrew his pistol, which he quickly trained on the big man with the axe. "Take one step toward me, fella, and I�ll kill you."

Muggsy stared at him. When he spoke, it was with a deep, almost ponderous voice. "O� est son coeur? Dites-moi donc je ne peux cesser de tuer!"

Morgan, who didn�t know much of the French language, besides a few dishes he could order in restaurants and a handful of sexual slang terms, stared in confusion.

Dinkins laughed. "Sorry, mon ami. He�s asking you where my heart is. He�s a bit single-minded, this one. I know you won�t believe me, but I really did hope to hire Mr. Gray to help me. He�d solve all this without nearly so much bloodshed." Dinkins gave Muggsy a playful shove. "Go on, then. Get it over with."

The Axeman of Sovereign City raised his killing blade and began to advance on Morgan.

Samantha�s car was pulling into the garage located behind the Assistance Unlimited headquarters when Morgan�s alarm began going off in her purse. She quickly parked the car and yanked out the communications device, seeing a flashing number on the tiny device�s screen: "2." That meant that it was Morgan, since Lazarus was # 1, Samantha was # 3 and Eun was # 4. The address below the flashing number read �6196 Robeson Avenue," which indicated that Morgan was actually inside the building � and in some form of mortal danger!

Samantha was out of the car in a flash, a small handgun clutched tightly in her left hand. She moved around to a side door, one that was marked for deliveries. A small number pad was set into the wall next to the door and she quickly entered a private code that caused the door to open with a pop. She crept inside and moved stealthily through the darkness until she neared the front corridor. She jumped when she heard a gunshot, followed by the unmistakable sounds of Morgan engaging in physical combat.

Any lingering anger she felt toward her friend for his romantic pursuits was completely forgotten and she surged forward, whipping around the corner with her gun raised. What she saw was enough to stop her in her tracks for a moment. A large brute armed with an axe was towering over Morgan, who was bleeding from a deep gash in his right shoulder. Morgan�s pistol lay on the floor, covered in blood. Standing just out of harm�s way was a Negro wearing a top hat and a broad grin.

Samantha immediately knew that Morgan was too close to the man with the axe for her to get a clean shot off. She had to hope that Morgan could stay alive long enough for her to seize an opportunity. But the man in the hat� he was fair game.

Samantha dropped her gun into the purse she wore slung over one shoulder and rushed into the scene. Dinkins jerked his head to the side, eyes widening at the sight of her. Despite her dainty appearance, Samantha was as adept at the martial arts as any of her peers, if not more so. She drove one of her spiked heels into the side of the old man�s head, knocking him off balance. He tumbled to the floor, blood seeping from a nasty looking scratch. He uttered a string of curses at her in a Cajun dialect and Samantha had her suspicions confirmed: these two were related to the Axeman crimes.

Morgan spotted his friend and was almost so distracted that he forgot to duck under another swipe of The Axeman�s blade. "Samantha! Get out of here! Go get help!"

Samantha bristled at Morgan�s words. She knew that he respected her too much to treat her like some fragile flower but in recent months he�d become more protective of her, in direct correlation to his desire for a relationship with her. She drove a hard kick into Dinkins� belly and he rolled onto his back, gasping for air.

Morgan, meanwhile, dove for his gun but it slid away from him and The Axeman caught him with a hard elbow to the back of the head. Morgan saw stars for a minute and his feet slipped in a puddle of his own blood. He landed awkwardly and The Axeman raised his blade high, intending to finish off his opponent with one further stroke.

It was then Samantha drove her shoulder hard into Muggsy�s back. She was light as a feather compared to the big man but the impact was enough to take his attention off of Morgan. He turned slowly, gazing down at Samantha with a tilted head, as if he were gazing at something wholly new and unexpected. Samantha was rubbing her shoulder, wondering if she�d broken something. She fumbled with her purse, intending to draw her pistol but The Axeman batted it away from her with a beefy paw.

"Samantha," Morgan whispered, trying to find the strength to rise again. He stared hard at the beautiful girl, knowing that his heart would break if he saw her seriously hurt. He threw himself at The Axeman�s feet, holding on tight to the man�s ankles. The Axeman roared in anger, trying to dislodge Morgan�s grip but failing. This gave Samantha the time to scurry after her purse. She pulled out her gun and whipped it around toward The Axeman.

Just as she was taking careful aim at the killer�s skull, a blue-tinged powder flew into her face. Samantha coughed but it was too late. The substance was in her eyes and throat. It burned and itched but more than anything, it brought a terrible drowsiness that not even Samantha�s incredible strength of will could resist. She looked through watery eyes at Dinkins, who was back on his feet, with another of powder clutched in one of his hands. Though she knew it might end up costing her life, Samantha slid into unconsciousness, falling heavily to the floor.

The Axeman, meanwhile, had managed to yank one of his legs free. He drove the heel of his boot into Morgan�s face, crushing his nose. Blood gushed from the wound and Muggsy slammed the butt of his axe handle down onto Morgan�s skull. He then walked around the prone man�s form, hefting his axe once more.

"Leave him be," Dinkins warned.

The Axeman looked up sharply, his eyes burning like coals beneath his mask.

Dinkins stared him down. "You think it�s coincidence that she showed up when she did? I bet he sent out an alarm of some kind. Might be one of those silent ones like they have in the fancier banks. That means Gray and his Korean man might be here any second and it�s going to bad enough if they find their friends like this. Let them see Morgan there with his head cut off and they might go into a frenzy."

The Axeman panted like a dog and shook his head, as if to say that he didn�t fear anyone or anything.

"I agree, mon ami. You could deal with them easy enough." Dinkins lowered his voice, soothing his ally. "But we need to go. No time to play, you hear? I don�t want to take no risks. It�s obvious now that this Gray fellow and his men aren�t the mercenaries I thought they were. They�re something else entirely and that makes them dangerous. So come with me now and we�ll find the door this little lady came in through. I promise you�ll get your fill of blood soon enough."

Muggsy looked at the carnage around him and finally relented, losing the tension in his body. Samantha looked gorgeous in repose but Morgan was a bloody mess.

When the villains were gone, the building fell quiet, save for the deep breathing of Samantha Grace and the quicker, shallower breaths of Morgan Watts.

Lazarus and Eun received the summons from Morgan as well. They were just leaving Ebenezer�s home when the signal came through and though they rushed back at far above the posted speed limit, they arrived too late to see The Axeman or Dinkins exiting the scene. They entered cautiously and came upon their fallen comrades within moments of arriving. Lazarus knelt to check on Morgan first, noting the large amount of blood surrounding the man. Of all his aides, it was Morgan who always seemed to get the worst of their adventures. The man had been shot multiple times, stabbed, nearly drowned and even set on fire in the past. Now it looked like another hospital visit lay in his future.

"Samantha�s okay but I can�t wake her up," Eun said, examining the girl with a practiced eye.

Gray stood and crossed to where the girl lay on the floor. "Go and summon Dr. Hancock at once. Morgan has lost a lot of blood." Eun hurriedly moved to follower his employer�s command. Doctor Hancock was on call 24/7 for the exclusive use of Assistance Unlimited. He was paid so handsomely that he had been able to abandon his traditional practice, despite having had the reputation for being one of the top practitioners in Sovereign.

Lazarus opened one of Samantha�s lids and noticed a small grain of blue powder in the corner of her eye. He carefully brushed it onto the tip of a finger and studied it with an attentive gaze. He�d seen something similar to this before, though it had been long before his life as Richard Winthrop had come to an end. During a trip to Africa, he and several other members of The Illuminati had found a witchdoctor who used this powder to induce a coma-like state in his enemies. The substance wore off after several hours but a large enough dose could prove fatal.

"He�s on his way," Eun said, stepping back in. "Should I apply pressure on Morgan�s wounds?"

"Yes. And I�m going to need you to wait here until Samantha wakes up. If Dr. Hancock wants to take Morgan to the hospital � and I�d wager that he will � I still want you to remain with Samantha. Do you understand?"

"Of course. But where are you going to be?"

Lazarus stood and headed toward the door. "The person or persons who did this can�t be far ahead of me. The scene is too fresh. I�m going to try and catch up to them. I�ll be back."

Monique and her companion walked through the streets, which became more and more deserted as they continued. A soft drizzle was falling and there was a nip to the air but neither of those were the reasons for the dearth of people on the streets. They were nearing Robeson Avenue, which was completely owned by Lazarus Gray. He had bought up all the other buildings to ensure that no one moved in next to his Assistance Unlimited headquarters. As such, there were no cars driving up and down these roads nor were there shoppers or business people about.

Monique looked at the man who trudged along in silence at her side. He wore a rust-colored potato sack over his head, with two holes cut in ragged slits over his eyes. His beefy fingers opened and closed repeatedly, the muscles in his arm clenching in time. He looked like he was strangling some invisible creature hanging at his sides. The sack was a necessity since the process that turned men into Slashers left them a horror to look at. It twisted their features into something inhuman and awful.

"Stop," Monique said, raising a hand to prevent her companion from walking forward. They were standing at the end of the block, looking directly at the Assistance Unlimited front entrance. She had come here after an attempt at turning the tables on Dinkins. She was hoping to catch him by surprise. He wouldn�t expect her to become the hunter but now that she had her own Slasher, she thought it was time. She�d spilled the blood of a live chicken and then slit it open, yanking out the bones so that she could pick through its entrails and try to divine the movements of her enemy. She had been led here but there was no sign of Dinkins: he had obviously come and gone before Monique�s arrival.

The big man suddenly cried out in pain, falling forward on to his knees. Monique�s head whipped around to see Lazarus Gray standing over the big man, his right hand clenched into a fist. It boggled the mind to believe that the moderately built Gray could have felled the Slasher with one blow but that was apparently what had happened.

As if reading her mind, Lazarus said, "No matter how big your opponent is, he�s just as vulnerable to certain nerve attacks as anyone else." Gray stared at Monique, his mismatched eyes catching hers and holding them like a steel trap. "Identify yourself."

"Stammering, Monique forced out the words, "My name is Monique. I came here looking for help."

Gray didn�t seem to believe her lie. He raised a foot and drove it hard into the big man�s kidneys, drawing another grunt of pain. "And this brute? Is he The Axeman?"

Monique paused, her eyes widening. "No! We�re on the run from him! And from a man named Dinkins. They�re the ones killing all those people, not us!"

Lazarus searched her face, looking for signs of honesty. What he saw did little to set him at ease. She was young and beautiful but there was a savagery in her eyes that led him to suspect she was capable of doing horrible things.

"Is this man a Slasher?" he asked, already knowing the answer but wanting to hear it from her lips.

A slight widening of the eyes made it clear that Monique hadn�t expected him to be so knowledgeable. "Yes," she admitted after a moment, obviously having decided that it would do her no good to pretend otherwise. "I needed him to help protect me from Mr. Dinkins and his killer. They�re the ones you really want."

"And did this man ask to have this procedure done to him?"

Monique�s expression hardened. "He was not a nice man," she stated in a flat tone of voice. "I�ve given him purpose and strength."

"At the expense of a normal life." Gray quickly pulled a dagger from the interior lining of his coat. "I assume he�s under your control. Tell him to restrain from violence of any kind or else I�ll kill him. The same goes for you."

With surprising speed, Monique struck at Lazarus, raking his neck with the sharpened nails of her left hand. Gray threw himself away from her but she still managed to leave three crimson trails across his skin. Gray reached out and grabbed her wrist, applying enough pressure that she cried out in pain and sagged to her knees. The Slasher was beginning to rise but Gray raised a foot and drove it hard into a nerve cluster on the big man�s spine.

"Let�s try this again," Gray said, ignoring the rain that was now beginning to fall harder all around them. Because the city�s drainage was in constant need of repair, large puddles of water had a tendency to form and several were already well on their way to becoming small lakes. "You said that Dinkins is the real threat. But why is he after you?"

Monique gritted her teeth but finally succumbed to the pain and whimpered. "I stole his heart."

"He was in love with you?"

"I didn�t mean it like that. I cut his heart out. But he�s still alive."

Gray considered this and nodded. During his old life, he�d become quite familiar with the occult and had heard of such things. Some men sold their souls to demonic forces, allowing them to continue existing long after a normal man would have died. But there was a cost to all things�.

"So all of the madness that�s been going on in this city� it�s because Dinkins is looking for you?"

Monique looked down, her eyes filling with tears. "Yes. Please help me. I can pay you� money, sex, whatever you want. But don�t let him catch me. The things he�ll do to me�."

Gray yanked her to her feet, his eyes looking cold and impassive. "I hate to tell you this, but there�s no way out for you. We�re going to lay a trap for Dinkins and his Axeman. And you�re going to be the bait."

Walther Lunt strode through the marble corridors, ignoring the servants who offered pleasantries as he passed. The German was in a foul mood and he felt more than a bit uncertain about what was to come. He had recently returned from America, where he had discovered that his old associate Richard Winthrop still lived, now operating under a new identity as Lazarus Gray. Lunt had actually died during their reunion and his subsequent resurrection had not come without strings attached. He had to bathe no less than three times daily or else the foul odor of the grave seemed to rise from his pores. And though his sexual appetites had not waned, it was increasingly difficult for him to reach his peak, leading him to greater acts of depravity in the hopes of getting the pleasure he sought.

Lunt paused before two large white doors, knowing that on the other side waited the rest of The Illuminati�s inner circle. By now they would have read his report and would know that Gray was once more in possession of the knowledge about their organization. Would Gray renew the war against them that had led to his supposed death? Or would he wisely stay in Sovereign City and out of their way?

He rather doubted the answer would be the latter.

After reaching up and lightly scratching the ruined flesh on the right side of his face, Lunt pushed open the doors and walked inside, hoping to portray a sense of utter confidence. He saw that there were four men and two women seated at the central table, all dressed in dark robes with hoods drawn. To his surprise, however, Miya was there, standing just behind the chair occupied by Mobius, the group�s current chairman. The Japanese-American woman wore a skintight green dress that accentuated her Dragon Lady persona. She smiled at Lunt�s distress and barely stifled a laugh.

"Walther," Mobius said, gesturing toward the one open seat at the table. "Please join us. It�s been too long since we�ve all been together like this."

"I assume you�ve all seen my report," Walther said as he slid into his chair. "I�d like to point out that Miya made a strong attempt at seducing him but that it was an utter failure, prompting me to take drastic action."

Mobius smiled coolly. He was a gaunt man with a bald head and dark rings around his eyes. His teeth were yellow and he smelled like a pack of old cigarettes. "Walther, you don�t have to explain yourself to us." Mobius said this in a tone of voice that suggested the very opposite was true. "Your description of events matches up very well with what Miya has said. While there were some of us who felt that it was a bit� unwise� to have sparked Winthrop�s memory regarding us, what�s done is done. Now we must make an appropriate response."

Walther glanced at Miya and saw that her expression had shifted slightly. Whatever Mobius was about to say was known to her already and she wasn�t in total agreement with it.

Mobius sat back in his chair and steepled his fingers in front of him. "Richard Winthrop was a tenacious enemy. He knew our inner workings and was quite ready to do whatever it took to disrupt our plans. Now that he�s reinvented himself as Lazarus Gray, I daresay he�s even more dangerous. Before, he operated alone. Now he has three quite capable aides and the backing of some important people. We need to strike quickly and decisively. That�s why I�ve contracted with someone that I think can bring our old enemy to his knees."

"We have assassins in our employ," Walther murmured but he knew immediately that Mobius had already discarded that notion.

"And they�ve failed against him in the past. Despite all our best efforts, Richard Winthrop is not dead."

"Actually," Miya said, momentarily ignoring the protocol that said guests held their tongues during Illuminati meetings, "I�d argue that point. Richard Winthrop is dead. Lazarus Gray has some of Richard�s character traits but he�s not quite the same as he used to be."

Mobius snorted derisively. "Nonsense. Changing one�s name doesn�t make them a different person."

"I knew Richard Winthrop," Miya argued. "And I think I know a little bit about Lazarus Gray. He�s stronger now, inside and out. It�s like the darkness we�d managed to put inside him has been burned away."

"You sound like you admire him," Mobius said.

Miya said nothing but there was no denying the spark of emotion in her eyes.

Walther cleared his throat, drawing all eyes back to him and his ruined face. "I wouldn�t have couched it in those terms but I think Miya is correct. He is more dangerous than before. I hope you took that into account when it came to hiring an outsider to deal with him."

One of the faceless men around the table leaned forward, his voice carrying an edge to it. "The Illuminati has existed for centuries, Walther. We are capable of dealing with one lone enemy, even if you yourself have failed repeatedly to handle the situation."

Walther felt stung by the rebuke but he managed to keep it from showing on his features. "Of course. I meant no disrespect."

Mobius spoke loudly, obviously tired of the back-and-forth regarding the issue. "Enter please!"

A door opened and closed behind Walther�s back and he turned to see who had entered the room. The sight that greeted him was enough to freeze the ice in his veins. Though at first glance the figure that moved toward him appeared human, it didn�t take long to disprove that notion. The figure had yellow-green skin and pointed ears. His head was completely hairless but covered by a black skullcap while his mouth was a leering parody of a man�s. The animal-like maw was filled with razor-sharp teeth. The creature�s hands were held at its sides and the fingertips ended in long blades that looked like they could disembowel a man with ease. Walther had heard stories of such a creature, a monster that ruled over a tiny island in the Pacific named Ricca. It was said that he was known by many names but the ones that were most common were "The God of Hate" and "The Claw."

"You must be joking," Walther muttered, turning to look at Mobius. "You�re going to pay good money to� that thing?"

"I�m surprised at you," Mobius replied. "You�ve seen demons that slithered up from the shadows and you�re that disturbed by The Claw? I think you owe him an apology. I won�t abide rudeness."

Walther started at Mobius with barely disguised loathing. Mobius had personally choked the life from children and now he was protesting a bit of rudeness? It was enough to drive Walther to near madness. Even so, he knew his place and didn�t want to risk himself any further than he already had. With forced kindness, he addressed The Claw, trying to ignore the look of smug satisfaction on the hideous creature�s face. "I hope that I didn�t offend you. It wasn�t my intent. I merely meant that we have so many resources of our own that it troubles me to go to an outsider."

When The Claw spoke, his voice was strangely high-pitched and disconcerting. "I know exactly what you meant, Mr. Lunt. You think me nothing more than a monster, capable of scaring children with the way I look. But I�m far more than that. Catch me when the moon is right and I�m capable of things that would boggle your mind."

Walther could no longer hide his disdain. It bubbled forth in the words, "I highly doubt that. Perhaps you have no idea who you�re dealing with."

The Claw took several steps toward Walther and with each step he grew in height. By the time he reached the German, he was well over twelve feet tall, his head scraping against the ceiling. He looked down at a shaken Walther and grinned, baring all his fangs. "Have you ever seen anything like me?" he asked.

Walther swallowed and managed to find his voice. "No. I have to admit� I haven�t."

The Claw�s form seemed to shimmer as he once more assumed his normal size. He turned to Mobius, dismissing Walther as no longer a concern. "I will kill this Lazarus Gray but I want assurances that my payment will be delivered on time."

Mobius nodded. "Thirteen virgin girls, all aged 12 to 17, just as you requested. We�ll make sure their ethnicities are mixed, as per your requirements. We�ll deliver them to Ricca within six hours of Gray�s confirmed death."

The Claw�s tongue flicked out like a snake�s, brushing across the tips of his teeth. "Then I will make arrangements to travel to Sovereign City. Do you have any problem with me causing massive destruction in the pursuit of my goal?"

Mobius laughed. "Burn the city to the ground if it suits you."

While Mobius and The Claw bargained, Walther caught Miya�s eye. Though the two of them had no real love lost between them, both were thoroughly disgusted by The Claw. Still, while Miya had feelings for their enemy, Walther did not. If The Claw were able to rid them of Gray, then Walther would deem all this as worthwhile.

Mr. Dinkins studied the entrails spread out on the table before him, a pensive expression on his face. He ignored the steady back-and-forth pacing of Muggsy behind him, focusing all of his attention on understanding the future laid out in front of him. He saw signs that indicated that he�d finally find Monique� but there were other figures present as well, and Dinkins couldn�t be sure who they were. He hoped that it wasn�t Lazarus Gray and his aides. It had been a terrible mistake to approach Morgan Watts but, as he�d said, he�d heard much about the man�s employer and thought he might be a kindred spirit. Everyone else in Sovereign was corrupt so why not Gray? Unfortunately, that hadn�t proven to be the case.

Dinkins straightened up and rubbed his eyes. His chest ached where she�d stolen his heart and he�d found that his magical means for staying alive were beginning to take their toll. He looked around the shabby hotel room in which they were staying and felt a sudden yearning for New Orleans. "I�m going to die here," he said aloud and the words surprised him, for he hadn�t realized he was going to say them.

The Axeman shifted, studying him from behind his mask.

Dinkins waved a hand at him. "Ignore me. I�m just thinking out loud."

The room�s telephone rang and Dinkins crossed the floor to pluck it up with slender fingers. "Yes?"

The hotel clerk came on briefly, letting him know that he was connecting an outside call. After a brief pause, the voice of Monique came through the line, surprising Dinkins. "I want to see you," she said breathlessly.

"You�ve led us on a merry little chase," Dinkins answered. "I thought Muggsy was going to have to carve up most of the city�s young girls before we found you."

"I know. I saw the papers. Listen, I�m sorry about what happened. I thought I could get by without you, but I don�t know enough to really use your heart. I�m willing to submit to you in any way you want if you�ll just take me back."

Dinkins was glad she couldn�t see his face because he knew his expression was an ugly one. "Why would I take you back and train you any more? You�d just turn on me again later on."

"I wouldn�t! I swear! I�ve learned my lesson."

"This wouldn�t be a trap, would it?"

Monique paused. When she continued, her voice had taken on a chastened tone. "I deserve that. I tried to kill you after you�d done so much for me. I was a bitch for that and you�d be right to hate me forever. But I think we were good together before that� and I know what you like. I can do those things for you again."

Dinkins felt some of his anger subside. He didn�t want to admit it but his desire for her body made him a very weak man. It had led him to lower his defenses, allowing her to strike at him in the first place. Even now, when he�d sought her punishment for so long, he couldn�t stop thinking of the things he could now demand of her� all the depravities he could imagine could be his. She could refuse him nothing!

Monique seemed to sense that his silence meant that he was considering her offer. "Could we get together tonight? I could show you how obedient I can be."

Dinkins exhaled, feeling tightness in his chest. "Where?"

Monique gave him the address to a hotel located on the outskirts of the harbor region. Dinkins scribbled it down on a piece of paper, his hand shaking with lust. "Don�t disappoint me," he warned.

"I won�t, my love. Never again." Monique hung up the phone, leaving Dinkins with a hungry smile on his face.

Eun tried to keep from pacing but it was difficult. He was a young man of boundless energy and it was sometimes hard to channel all of that into being stealthy. It simply wasn�t his nature. He was crouched on the rooftop of the Reich Hotel, a German-owned establishment that catered to sailors and sea captains.

Christopher Reich was the man behind the hotel and he was an ardent admirer of Lazarus Gray. Reich had run afoul of a blackmail scheme a few months back and Assistance Unlimited had managed to capture the villains behind it all, earning Reich�s eternal trust. The blackmail had been linked to Reich�s sexual tastes, which ran toward athletically built young men. The entire incident had been somewhat embarrassing for Eun, since it skirted very close to his own-closeted secret.

When he�d first joined Assistance Unlimited, Eun had gone carousing with Morgan in an attempt at bonding. It had gone well enough and Eun had even forced himself to engage in some harmless flirting with Samantha� but he still suspected that the others knew that he was a homosexual. If they did, they weren�t ones to let it affect how they viewed him and he respected that. Eun hadn�t told his parents before they�d died, knowing how they would have reacted. It was the way most people in the world would have, with disgust and worry. But Eun couldn�t change who he was� and truth be told, he didn�t want to. He�d been quietly dating a dockworker named Edward Lee for about six weeks now and they were very happy together. Combine that with the pleasure he derived from working with Assistance Unlimited and Eun was relatively happy, despite the anger that often drove him to acts of impetuousness. Even so, it was hard sometimes, facing prejudice both because of his race and his sexual orientation.

A yellow cab that pulled up in the front of the hotel drew Eun�s attention. He leaned over the rooftop�s edge, pulling out a small spyglass that allowed him to study the two men who emerged from the rear of the vehicle. One of them was a Negro dressed in ratty clothes and a top hat, matching the description given by both Monique and Morgan, who had finally awakened just before being taken to the hospital. The other fellow was a monstrous brute who wore a mask to cover his face. The big man held an axe in his left hand and even without the spyglass, Eun would have recognized the gore that caked the blade.

Turning quickly away from the rooftop�s edge, Eun sprinted back inside the building. He entered the hotel room they�d set aside for their trap, only slightly out of breath thanks to his incredible physical conditioning. "They�re on the way up. The Axeman has his blade with him."

Samantha and Lazarus were the only ones in the room. Monique and her Slasher were both being held in containment cells back at headquarters, though Eun wasn�t sure what would happen to them later. So far, neither of them had committed any kind of crime that would hold up in court: It was true that Monique had attacked the man who had become her Slasher but the sheer weirdness of the crime would confuse most judges.

Samantha, dressed in jodhpurs and a cream-colored blouse, looked at Lazarus with surprise on her pretty face. "I can�t believe he�s just carrying his weapon like that."

Gray nodded. "It�s a good thing we evacuated the hotel. Reich is manning the front desk and will be the only person who has to see them before they make it up here."

"Should I go downstairs and make sure he�s okay?" Eun asked.

"No. I installed a panic button behind the clerk�s counter. At the first sign of danger, Reich can summon us. He�s quick enough on his feet to be able to make it to the office behind him and lock the door if he needs to."

Eun nodded and moved to take his spot behind the door. The plan was simple: lure Dinkins and Muggsy into the room and then take them down. The Assistance Unlimited crew had them outnumbered three to two and all three of them were well trained in personal combat. Gray and Samantha also had pistols on them but the hope was to avoid a firefight in these close quarters.

Heavy footsteps in the hall made them all tense and Samantha moved to take up a position in the small doorway that led into the washroom. Gray remained where he was, in plain view of anyone who entered the room. The first to do so was The Axeman, who stopped in confusion at the sight of someone besides Monique. Eun reached out and gave the big man a hearty shove, pushing him further into the room. He then spun into the hallway, where he came face to face with Dinkins. A hard punch to the old man�s throat sent him to his knees and Eun finished him off with a hard driven knee to the forehead.

Muggsy, however, was not going to be so easily beaten. He raised his axe and swung it at Gray�s head. The team�s leader ducked under the blade even as Samantha moved from her hiding place. She expertly swung one of her long legs between The Axeman�s and, by timing her motion with the big man�s lumbering, caused him to lose his balance. He crashed down atop a small table, shattering it.

Gray drove the heel of his shoe against the back of The Axeman�s head but Muggsy managed to swing his axe out and the blade caught the back of Gray�s leg, drawing blood.

"Chief!" Samantha cried out as a small river of red flowed out from her employer�s pants.

"I�m fine," Gray answered, moving away from the axe-wielding brute. Gray knew that Muggsy was more resistant to pain in his current state and that there was no way to undo the mental and physical damages that had been done to him. Gray waited until The Axeman was facing him, the killer�s back toward the large window that overlooked the harbor. Gray lowered his shoulder and sprinted toward the big man, ignoring both Eun and Samantha, who uttered expressions of disbelief. Lazarus barreled into The Axeman and grunted in pain. It felt like slamming into a tree trunk. Still, his momentum was enough to force the big man backward and they slammed into the window, which shattered under their combined weight. The two men toppled out of the fifth story room, vanishing from the sight of Gray�s employees.

Eun jumped over the shattered table and arrived at the windowsill a millisecond before Samantha. Their shoes crunched on broken glass and Eun leaned out of the window, heart thudding at the possibility of seeing Lazarus broken and dead on the ground below. To his tremendous relief, that wasn�t what he laid eyes on.

The Axeman lay shattered and broken on the city street but Gray himself was hanging for dear life onto a large flag pole that jutted out from the hotel�s fa�ade.

"Hang on, Chief!" Eun bellowed. "We�re gonna get you down from there!"

Lazarus said nothing, trusting that his aide would be as good as his word. He cast a downward glance at Muggsy�s dead body. He detested killing any living thing but The Axeman was barely human at this point. In the end, Muggsy lived for murder and could never be rehabilitated. Thus, Lazarus had done both Muggsy and society a tremendous favor by ending his existence.

It was a hard thing, being a self-appointed judge and jury. But Gray was prepared to take on the responsibility � especially given that he lived in a city where the men and women appointed to do such things could no longer be trusted.

A hard rain began to fall.

Morgan was back at his desk within three days� time, much to the chagrin of Samantha, who fussed over him like she was a mama bird and he was her baby chick. Though it embarrassed him, he didn�t put up much of a complaint.

Eun was mostly out of the office during this time, as he was helping Edward move into a new apartment.

With his three aides thus engaged, Lazarus Gray busied himself by executing Monique�s Slasher and scouring the girl�s personal belongings until he found that she was in possession of several controlled substances. Thus armed, he was able to see that she was entered into the legal system appropriately. Dinkins was a far easier case � the man was wanted on a litany of crimes both great and small back in Louisiana. Gray personally transferred him over to the law enforcement agents who came from the Bayou to collect him.

When the cleanup from the Axeman case had been settled, Lazarus returned to his third floor apartment in the Assistance Unlimited headquarters. It was there that he spread out a series of papers he�d been accumulating as of late. There were photographs of men and women from around the world, as well as a detailed tracking of their movements. He was the only man alive who had been at the center of The Illuminati and had survived breaking ties with it. It was only a matter of time before they came for him again and he intended to be ready.

In fact, Lazarus intended to strike first.

The rain fell steadily over Sovereign City, drenching man and beast. It had stormed for six days in a row, prompting some to joke that it was well past time to start work on an ark. The figure that strode through the puddles, his body hidden beneath a wide-brimmed fedora and a thick jacket cinched at the waist, cared nothing for the bitter cold or the freezing rain. He was known as The God of Hate to those brave enough to follow him and he ruled over an island nation with an iron fist. He was The Claw and he had come to Sovereign City on dark business.

His inhuman features were quickly turned away from any pedestrian who happened to wander too close. Though he was of the general shape and height of a man, his ears were pointed, his mouth was a gaping maw filled with razor-sharp teeth and his fingers ended in the claws from which he took his name.

The Claw came to a stop before a large structure. His eyes ran across the lettering on the brick sign that rested on a grassy knoll in front of the building: Doc Daye�s Home for Forgotten Children. The orphanage was home to nearly six-dozen little tykes, as well as the women who cared for them. It was one of the city�s most beloved institutions and Daye himself was frequently sighted at the facility.

At this hour of night, all the children were nestled tight in their warm beds, dreaming of potential new families. Unfortunately, those dreams were never going to come true.

The Claw stared at the building for a few seconds before glancing up at the full moon that hung bloated in the sky. His power waxed and waned in conjunction with the phases of the moon and tonight he was going to be near his strongest. He knew that he should be expending this energy in pursuit of Lazarus Gray but an old, bloody debt was calling to him.

"Tempus, my old friend, I only wish that you were sleeping alongside these innocents, so that their fate could be your own. The vengeance I owe your father can only be satisfied by your death." The Claw�s voice sounded oddly high-pitched for such a frightening entity. He raised both arms, exposing his sharpened nails to the light. He whispered dark words under his breath, speaking in a tongue long forgotten by civilized man. The storm clouds overhead seemed to thicken and swell, bolts of lightning tearing from their midst.

In reaction to The Claw�s commands, the lightning strikes grew ever closer to the orphanage until with stunning ferocity no less than three dozen bursts of electrical power honed in on the building, striking with all the force of a thousand pounds of TNT. The building exploded in a fireball, some of the bricks flying with such force that they knocked out windows on buildings across the street. The smell of burning flesh filled the air as dozens of young boys and girls were ripped from the world at far too early an age.

The Claw turned away from the scene, a bubble of laughter emanating from deep in his throat. This visit to Sovereign was meant to be one of business, for he was being richly paid for his work. But that didn�t mean that he couldn�t enjoy himself along the way�.

Morgan Watts tried to ignore the nagging pain on his left side but the condition was so persistent that he finally put a hand on the affected area and grunted in annoyance. Over the past few months, he�d had the misfortune to suffer one injury after another. As a result, his body now carried with it more aches and pains than most normal men could have withstood.

That was part of the reason why he�d volunteered for this mission. He wanted to get out of Sovereign in the hopes of breaking his run of bad luck. When Lazarus had announced that he wanted one of the team to travel to Paris and have a little "talk" with a member of the Illuminati that lived there, he quickly snatched up the opportunity.

Morgan sat in a small caf�, bundled up against the wintry chill. A cup of coffee sat on the table before him but it had remained untouched since the waiter had brought it to him. Morgan�s attention was fixed on the hotel across the street and he sat up straight when his target finally emerged.

Joseph "Jack" Conrad was an American by birth but he�d moved to Europe at the age of six and had spent the last twenty years of his life here in Paris. He served on the Board of Directors for one of the most prominent museums in France and was regarded as one of the most eligible bachelors on the continent. Thin but well-defined, Conrad had white-blond hair that came to a widow�s peak, dark eyes and a somewhat distant persona. He always dressed to the nines and was rarely seen with out a cigarette balanced between the fingers of his right hand. Indeed, as Morgan watched, Conrad stopped on the hotel steps, pausing long enough to shake a cigarette out from a case and then light it. He took several long drags on it, exhaled slowly, and then began heading down the street at a leisurely pace. Morgan exited the caf�, dropping a few coins on the table as a tip.

Morgan followed, staying far enough behind that Conrad wouldn�t notice that he was being tailed. From what Morgan had been told, Conrad had joined The Illuminati in his late teens, having been invited to join mainly because of his family�s money. Whereas many members of the organization possessed some measure of skill in the areas of the occult, Conrad was an exception. The son of a wealthy banker, Conrad helped provide needed capital and connections but was otherwise kept out of the loop when it came to the full extent of their supernatural affairs.

But he still knew enough to be useful.

Morgan recognized the area they were entering, having meticulously studied maps of the city. He ducked down an alleyway, confident that he knew where he could cut off Conrad�s progress. Indeed, he found himself waiting at a point, just ahead of the other man within moments and as Conrad passed, he reached out and grabbed him, yanking him off the street. He kept one hand over Conrad�s mouth while the other held the barrel of a gun against the man�s forehead.

"Don�t move. Understand?"

Conrad�s eyes were wide and frightened. He nodded quickly, wetting his lips when Morgan released his hold on him. "I have money," he said, starting to reach into his coat pocket.

"Keep your hands where I can see them." Morgan cocked the gun and Conrad quickly raised his hands, showing the palms to Morgan. "I don�t want your money. I want information."

"What do you mean?" Conrad seemed both relieved and guarded. "If you�re looking to pull some sort of art heist, you�ll find that there�s only so much I can help you with. The museum�s inner workings aren�t known to me."

"Do I look like an art thief?" Morgan reached into his coat and pulled out a photograph of Walther Lunt. The German had one side of his face ruined by an acid attack years before and the assault had left him with a glint of madness in his eye. The photo showed that quite clearly. "You know this man?"

Conrad hesitated, wetting his lips once more. "Yes."

"I understand you�re both part of the same group. Am I right?"

"We�re in a gentleman�s club together, yes."

"Nice name for it. Your father is in banking and I bet that Lunt and some of the others use you to help keep their money hidden. Am I on the right track?"

Conrad said nothing for a moment and when he did speak, his voice had dropped an octave. "You�re playing a dangerous game, my friend. You don�t want to mess with these people. They�ll hurt you in ways that you can�t even imagine."

Morgan narrowed his eyes, his grip on the pistol never wavering. He was pretty sure that one reason why Lazarus agreed to let him go on this mission was because of his past. Morgan had once run with the toughest thugs in Sovereign. He�d done lots of bad things and on a few occasions, he�d had to kill to save his own skin. Unlike Samantha or Eun � and maybe even Lazarus � Morgan was quite capable of pulling the trigger if need be. "I�ll take that risk. Now answer the question: do Lunt and the others use your father�s bank?"

"I�m pretty sure that you already know that they do. That�s why you�re here, isn�t it?"

"Smart boy." Morgan reached out and grabbed Conrad by the arm, yanking him close. He shoved the gun hard into the younger man�s ribs, keeping it out of sight as he walked Conrad back out onto the city streets.

"Where are we going?"

"To the bank. It�s after hours but you can get us in, can�t you?"

Conrad�s jaw worked in helpless frustration. "And then what?�

"You�re going to give me addresses, phone numbers and anything else I can think of for those people Lunt works with."

"And when you�re done, do you think I�m not going to warn them?" Conrad�s eyes widened as the words left his mouth and he visibly realized that he should have kept his lips shut. "Oh good lord, you�re going to kill me, aren�t you?"

Morgan just smiled coldly, letting Conrad fill in the details. He actually had no desire to commit murder, even though he was capable of it. He�d brought along a small drug cocktail that Lazarus had perfected. It would wipe Conrad�s memory of the last 24 hours and leave him a very confused man. "I won�t shoot you unless you make me. That�s a promise."

Conrad stared into Morgan�s eyes, not sure if he believed the older man�s words. In the end, he knew that he had no choice: even a faint hope of survival was better than none. "I�ll get you the information you need� but I think you�re making an awful mistake. Lunt alone is a lunatic. If you go after the other members of the cabal, too, you�re a guaranteed dead man."

"I�ll roll the dice on that one. Now let�s go." Morgan gestured for Conrad to lead the way and the two of went off in pursuit of the information that would, hopefully, lead to a critical strike against The Illuminati.

"� city continues to mourn the loss of 57 innocent lives in last night�s terrible fire at Doc Daye�s Home for Forgotten Children. Sovereign Fire Chief Gabriel Sanders says that the tragedy is like nothing he�s ever seen before�."

Lazarus Gray turned off the radio, well aware of the somber mood in the room. With him in the meeting area of Assistance Unlimited�s headquarters were Samantha Grace and Eun Jiwon. Both of them stood in silent contemplation, eyes downcast.

"It�s so awful," Samantha said at last, wrapping her arms tightly around herself. The daughter of socialite parents, Samantha had never been one of the city�s �forgotten children,� but her kind heart allowed her to easily empathize with those who had perished. It was horrible enough to be alone in the world, with no family to speak of� but to have that life cut so cruelly short was almost too much to bear.

Eun glanced up, finding Gray�s eyes upon him. "What are we going to do, Chief?"

The man who now called himself Lazarus Gray bore an unusually grim expression, even for him. "As both of you know, this was not a random act of God. No matter what the authorities might wish to believe, this was an attack. A warning, if you will."

Eun nodded, his gaze moving toward the crumpled letter that lay on the meeting room table. Eun had been the first to discover it, dropped in their mail slot sometime overnight. Its surface was scrawled with horrible handwriting that somehow seemed to transcend mere ugliness: this was the mad doodling of a demon, straining to muster an attempt at English.

The note read: THOSE CHILDREN ARE JUST THE BEGINNING. I WILL BURN THIS CITY TO THE GROUND UNLESS YOU GIVE YOURSELF TO ME. FALL UPON YOUR KNEES BEFORE THE GOD OF HATE.

"The first thing we need to do," Lazarus answered, "is find out who sent this letter."

Samantha pulled a chair out from the table and sat down. She was a beautiful girl with a peaches and cream complexion, but at the moment she looked deathly pale. "Are we going to go to the police? Or let Doc Daye know what�s going on?"

Lazarus considered the questions before shaking his head. "Going to the authorities would do no good. They could place the citizenry on a general alert but we have no idea where this killer might strike next. A panic would do no one any good. As for Doc Daye, I will forward a copy of the letter to him and ask him to share with us any clues that he might come upon."

Eun nodded in agreement. "Okay. I�ll start looking through the archives to see if I can find any reference to The God of Hate." Assistance Unlimited had one of the top newspaper clipping collections in the world, as well as many priceless bound volumes that would have set any bibliophile�s heart aflutter.

Lazarus fixed his gaze upon Samantha, who straightened immediately. "While Eun is doing that, I want you to come with me. We should see the crime scene firsthand."

The three members of Assistance Unlimited sprang into action but while Samantha and Eun�s expressions were brimming with excitement, Gray�s remained impassive. There was something eating away at the edges of his frayed memory, some past association that the words �God of Hate� almost brought to the fore.

There were dark days ahead, he knew. And he prayed that his friends were strong enough to stand up to the test before them.

The God of Hate reclined on a bed of soft pillows, the smell of opium thick in the air. Three whores lay scattered about the bed and the floor, their clothes lying in an unruly pile next to the door. The girls had been drugged and then thoroughly violated in ways that would leave emotional scars for years. Thankfully, the opium would most likely prevent any of them from having a clear memory of what had occurred.

The room in which The Claw lay was rented and paid for by The Illuminati, who had hired him to deal with Lazarus Gray. In return, he would receive several young virgins that he could sacrifice for even greater power. Such was the world in which The Claw moved: humans were nothing more than bags of meat, to be eaten, screwed or traded.

A bedside radio had alternated between horrified reporting of the orphanage tragedy and the popular music of the day, which sounded like the bleating of animals to The Claw�s ears: Cheek to Cheek by Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers; Lullaby of Broadway by The Dorsey Brothers; and You�re The Top by Cole Porter. The Claw found he preferred the shocked tones of the reporters to the wailing of the singers, so he reached over with a sharpened nail to turn the radio off.

He rose from the pillows, stepping over a naked girl whose nose had been shattered. Her beauty would never fully return but The God of Hate felt no sympathy for her. She had served her purpose and been discarded, like a used tissue.

The Claw dressed slowly and methodically, putting his skullcap on last. He looked at himself in the mirror, smiling so that his razor-sharp teeth could be seen. There were bits of bloody flesh caught up near his gums and his tongue flicked up to work at them, savoring the flavor.

The origins of The God of Hate were unknown to all but a few on this planet and The Claw saw no reason to reveal his true nature to his enemies. But he was not birthed of this world and he would be alive long after its sun had grown cold. Immortality could be a curse, with eons of boredom. But The Claw refused to allow himself to stand still. He was always moving, always expanding his power base� and this attracted opposition, which The Claw secretly enjoyed. By pitting himself against so-called �heroes,� he found a way to keep himself amused.

And this Sovereign City was certainly full of challenges. There was Doc Daye, Lazarus Gray and Fortune McCall, all living in this one troubled locale. It was almost enough to make him consider moving his base of operations away from Ricca�.

But no, Ricca was too perfect a home. He would destroy Gray as he�d promised, and perhaps take his revenge upon the Daye family� and then he would leave.

Behind him, one of the girls was beginning to stir, a low, pained moan escaping her cracked lips. The Claw felt a renewed stirring within his loins and considered playing with her a bit more, but in the end he simply walked to the door and exited the hotel room. He had wasted enough time and he was here on business, after all.

He harbored no doubts about how Lazarus Gray would respond to the letter he had sent him. Gray would never surrender.

Which was just how The Claw wanted it.

Morgan Watts sat in the back of a cab, a heavy folder on his lap. He�d actually managed to get a lot more information than he�d ever dared hope and he couldn�t wait to get back to America so he could share it with the rest of Assistance Unlimited. When Gray had first told them of the scope of The Illuminati�s activities, Morgan had felt overwhelmed. How could Assistance Unlimited, four people strong, topple an international cartel that had their fingers in every level of finance, industry and the occult? But now, he was beginning to feel differently. Today had gone very well and the information could be used to badly hurt Lunt and his friends.

Morgan glanced out the window just in time to see the cab miss the turn that would have taken them to the airport. He leaned forward, tapping the driver on the shoulder. "Monsieur, you should have turned left back there."

The driver pushed harder on the accelerator and the car sped along faster than ever. Morgan now realized that he was in tremendous danger and reached for the door. He cursed under his breath when it refused to open. He was fumbling to pull out his gun, intending to force the driver to stop, when the vehicle abruptly braked. Morgan looked out the window to see that the cab was now parked near an open field, where five large men stood smoking cigarettes. One of them held a pistol in his left hand. The gunman was bald with a hook-shaped scar that ran from the corner of his mouth up to just under his right eye.

The driver got out of the car and stepped around to open Morgan�s door. "Your stop, Mr. Watts," the driver said, a faint smile on his lips.

Morgan stuffed the folder into the lining of his jacket. Gray had altered all of his aides� clothing to allow for hidden pockets. He stepped out of the car with gun in hand and quickly backhanded the driver, shattering the man�s jaw and knocking him to the ground. The other men reached into their own coats but stopped at a motion from the bald man. The movements confirmed Morgan�s worst fears: he was facing not one armed foe, but five.

Addressing the bald man, Morgan said, "I bet you know all about me and I know nothing about you. Seems a bit unfair. What�s your name? And who do you work for?"

"I suspect you know the answer to that last question," the bald man answered. "But my name is Louis. I don�t suppose you knew that all members of The Illuminati, especially those who safeguard valuable information, are subject to observation. We saw your kidnapping of Mr. Conrad. Now I�d like you to give us all the information you gathered. If you cooperate, we may not hurt you too badly."

Morgan bit his tongue before he voiced his doubts about that. They were going to kill him regardless of what he did. As casually as possible, he reached into his pocket, pretending to comply with Louis� request. He pulled out a small slip of paper on which he�d written Conrad�s address and usual schedule. As he was doing so, his fingers brushed against a small radio device that was used by all the aides to keep in contact with one another. One of its settings was a simple distress signal that would alert all the others that the user was in danger. Of course, its range was somewhat limited but Gray had managed to find a way to piggyback its signal over international wires. There would be probably be no way for anyone at Assistance Unlimited to actually help him but Morgan wanted to warn them, nonetheless.

"Here you go," Morgan said, folding the paper in half and then handing it over. "I didn�t take much information, actually. I just wanted to know how to reach a man named Walther Lunt."

Louis obviously recognized the name. His back stiffened and a terrible sneer touched his lips. "That bastard� if it were up to me, I�d let you have him."

Morgan sensed an opening and leapt for it. He gestured with his free hand toward the scar on the man�s face. "Is he responsible for that?"

"Among other things, yes." Louis shook his head, obviously trying to clear it of bad memories. "Down on your knees. "

"Aren�t you going to look at the paper? That�s everything, I swear."

Louis hesitated and then began to unfold the paper. When his eyes dropped, Morgan sprang into action. He knew he was a dead man but he wasn�t going to risk going down without a fight. He threw himself into Louis, knocking the man off his feet. Morgan made sure to shove the bald man into one of his henchmen.

Using instincts honed as a member of Assistance Unlimited, Morgan was a blur of action. He drew his gun and had blown off the head of the nearest thug before the remaining two men had even reached for their own weapons.

Morgan ducked and rolled, evading gunshots from the two men who were still on their feet. When he came back to his knees, he fired twice more, each bullet ripping through the throats of his targets.

In just a few seconds, Morgan had killed three men, which left him facing only two more: the odds had improved immensely. With any luck, he might get out of this in one piece, after all.

Louis gestured for his remaining ally to hang back. He held his hands up, his gun still clutched tightly. Morgan held his weapon aimed at the bald man�s head but didn�t pull the trigger. He was curious what Louis was up to.

"We can talk about this," Louis said. "We both hate Lunt."

"I thought you said it wasn�t up to you, though. You�ve got your orders, right? Take the information I�ve gathered and kill me. That�s the basics, right?"

"That�s what I was told to do, yes. But that doesn�t mean we can�t change things."

Morgan stood up, his eyes flicking over to the cab that had brought him here. The driver was sitting in the front seat, watching intently. Given the blood that freely trickled from his ruined jaw, the driver�s hatred for Morgan was obvious. No way was that guy going to sit by and let Morgan negotiate his way to freedom. "I don�t think that�s going to happen and we all know it."

Louis swallowed hard and then spun about. He shot the man standing behind him, blowing a hole directly between the man�s eyes. He then turned toward the car and fired three times before one of the bullets ended the driver�s life. He then tossed the gun aside and turned back to Morgan. "Now can we talk?�

Morgan took a deep breath and nodded. He lowered his weapon, wondering about the wisdom of this. A part of him said he should simply kill Louis on the spot and flee back to the States� but what if he could gather more information this way? What if Louis knew something that would allow Assistance Unlimited to drive a stake through The Illuminati�s heart?

"Make it good," Morgan said at last.

And Louis began to speak.

The crime scene was abuzz with activity but Samantha found it hard to concentrate on the men and women around them. She kept focusing on all the tiny bodies that had been laid out to the side, sheets carefully placed over the ruined remains. The smell was awful and she knew that at least part of that came from the burned flesh of children.

"Samantha? Are you going to be all right?"

Samantha glanced over at Lazarus, noting the look of concern in his eyes. His face remained stoic but for those who knew him well, it was obvious when he was troubled. "I�m fine," she lied. "Really."

After a moment�s consideration, Lazarus nodded and resumed walking through the debris. Samantha followed right behind him, primly watching her step on the treacherous terrain.

The various officers in charge of the investigation were watching Gray with a mixture of hopefulness and disdain. Though most of the police force was in the back pockets of gangsters like The Monster or Big Tony, some of them were legitimate enough to appreciate the assistance that Gray provided. But they still felt some jealousy when the man stepped onto the scene and found something that they�d missed.

Gray brushed aside some charred pieces of wood with the toe of his shoe. He spotted something amidst the ash and knelt to take a closer examination of the object, lifting it up between two fingers. He blew on it to clear off some of the dirt and held it up for Samantha to see. "What do you think this is?"

Samantha bent at the waist, placing her hands on her knees. She was aware of � but tried to ignore � the stares of the cops nearby. She knew she was attractive but there were so few men who were her intellectual equal that she found it hard to enjoy all the attention. The object that Gray was holding appeared to be shaped out of stone and resembled a crescent moon, though there were three deep scratches across its center, as if a cat had marked it with its claws. "I�ve never seen anything like it. What kind of rock is that?"

"Not one from this world," Gray answered. He stood up and dropped it into the pocket of his coat. "I�ve seen stones like that before. It�s from the moon."

Samantha�s gaze drifted upward, toward the hazy morning sky. "But� how?"

"Sometimes they�re brought to earth on the backs of meteors. But I�d wager that this one came the old fashioned way: I think someone went to the moon and picked it up."

"That�s impossible," Samantha responded.

"Not really. Think about all the bizarre things we�ve seen in the course of our adventures. Is it really so shocking that men might be traveling back and forth to the moon?"

"Yes," Samantha said with a smile. "It�s still pretty damned shocking."

"Such language from a young lady. It�s disgraceful."

Samantha straightened and looked over at Inspector Cord of the Sovereign PD. He was a whippet-thin man who had one eye that seemed to be perpetually narrowed.

"Sorry if I offended you, Inspector."

"I�ll recover but thank you." Cord gestured toward Lazarus. "Did I see you pick something up and put it in your pocket? I sincerely hope not, since you don�t have leave to remove evidence from a crime scene."

"Is that what this is?" Samantha asked sweetly. "A crime scene? I thought it was just a freak accident."

Cord grimaced. "Well, yes, of course it is� Still, seems a bit ghoulish to have you lot coming in here and removing souvenirs�."

While Samantha and Inspector Cord were exchanging words, Lazarus had moved away. He knew that Samantha would keep the man occupied long enough to allow him to finish his business. The reference to �The God of Hate� in that letter, coupled with the presence of a moonstone, was sparking his memory again. He wanted to check with Eun to see what the young man had come up with, but he was beyond positive that all of this was related to something quite evil. Lazarus was sure that during his previous existence, he�d never crossed paths with The God of Hate but he�d heard of him and the stories had been quite terrifying.

It was at that moment when Lazarus spotted one last clue: it was a sheet of paper, the sort used by schoolchildren the world over. Someone had drawn a crude image of a monster on it and Gray felt a chill go down his spine as he lifted the paper from the ground. Evidently, a child had been awake at the time of the stranger�s visit and had drawn this image of him while looking out his window. Gray saw a human figure staring back at him but the face was filled with razor sharp teeth and elongated ears. The monster�s hands looked like each finger was topped by claws.

"I see you," he whispered aloud, as if the figure on the page could hear him. "I see you."

Eun Jiwon turned the yellowed pages of the manuscript, his mouth feeling increasingly dry. It hadn�t taken long to find references to The God of Hate in the library but the things that he�d uncovered had boggled the mind. The God of Hate, also known as The Claw and by half a dozen other terrifying identities, was practically a demonic force unto himself.

According to the dozens of sources he�d found, The Claw was an inhuman figure that had lurked along the outskirts of humanity for centuries. There were unconfirmed stories that he�d once been a human who had either bargained away his soul for power or a scientist whose pursuit of dark answers had led him astray. But most of the tales simply said he was a monster who had emerged full-force into an unsuspecting world.

Eun paused at a charcoal depiction of The Claw and he wondered how accurate it truly was. Surely, he mused, this was an exaggeration of the figure�s actual appearance. With the oversized teeth and claws, along with the elongated ears, it looked like a distant cousin to Max Schreck�s Nosferatu.

The young man was so lost in thought that he failed to hear the soft footsteps behind him. It wasn�t until a cold, dry hand closed around his mouth and another grabbed his arms that he realized he was no longer alone. Being a man of action, Eun struck back quickly, driving an elbow back into the midsection of the person who had grabbed him but he cried out in shock. It felt like he�d struck a brick wall and from the pain in his elbow, Eun wondered if he�d broken it.

"Shh," a slightly high-pitched voice whispered into Eun�s ear. The man�s voice was as cold as the grave and Eun involuntarily shivered. "I won�t harm you, Eun Jiwon. Not now. My war lies not with you but with the man you serve. If I release my grip upon you, will you listen to what I have to say?"

Eun nodded, forcing himself to relax. When he felt the hands leave him, he spun about quickly, his eyes widening. Standing there before him was the living proof that the charcoal artist had been right: The Claw was just as hideous as the book had promised.

The Claw smiled coolly and his sharp teeth glistened wetly. "Your master is off in search of me? He got the letter I sent?"

Eun tried to keep the horror from his voice but he failed to do so, which shamed him. "Yes. He�s going to stop you before you kill again."

"He will try," The Claw agreed. "But as you can see, the impressive defenses he has put around his home failed to stop my entrance. I have no doubt that in personal combat, I would be able to best him." The God of Hate stepped closer and the foul odor that came from him caused Eun to back away, until his rear bumped against the table covered by books. "I wish to be done with this business between us. Tell him that. Tell him that I will hold his lover in my grasp until he comes for her. He should come alone and unarmed. Then we will see which of us is the deadlier. You will tell him this?"

Eun nodded, wondering at the creature�s words. Gray�s lover? Who was he referring to? He�d bet his last dollar that Lazarus and Samantha weren�t carrying on a secret affair and the girl from Gray�s past � Miya Shimada � had fled Sovereign. Nevertheless, Eun knew what he needed to do. "I will make it clear to him that you mean business."

The Claw laughed. "Good. Then I will let you live, so that you might pass on this message. I have shown him my cruelty and now I show him how easily I could take away what means most to him."

Eun watched as The Claw spun about and exited the room. After waiting a few seconds, Eun bolted after him, hoping to see how the villain had pierced the base�s defenses. But all he saw in the hallway was a still and quiet emptiness.

Samantha had developed the bad habit of chewing her nails. She wasn�t sure when it had begun but she�d first noticed it during Morgan�s last stint in the hospital. She was engaging in the habit now as she sat in the passenger seat of a black sedan, parked across the street from The Sovereign Museum of Natural History. If Eun, who was seated beside her, noticed her actions, he didn�t comment upon them. In fact, they�d been sitting in total silence since Lazarus had left them, wandering alone into the museum.

The Sovereign Museum of Natural History was a sprawling structure standing in the heart of downtown. Comprised of twelve interconnected buildings, the Museum housed well over a million specimens, only a relative few of which were on active display. With a scientific staff of over a hundred, the Museum funded nearly four-dozen scientific expeditions each year, sending explorers out all over the globe. The Museum was divided up into numerous displays but the most popular was the ever-present Start of Sovereign Hall, where the origins of the city were examined. To access this, visitors had to stride through the huge entranceway, where they could stare up at a full-size model of a Blue Whale which hung from the ceiling. It was an awesome view and one that Samantha had enjoyed on many visits. But at the moment she couldn�t bring herself to think about anything but Lazarus and his secrets.

"I can�t believe he�s never mentioned this," she said at last, tearing a thin piece of nail off with her teeth.

"Why would he? It was before he�d met most of us. It�s not like we share all the details of our personal lives with each other."

Samantha glanced over at Eun, a look of disbelief on her face. "What are you talking about? Every time one of us goes out on a date, everybody knows it. I guarantee you that Morgan knows all the men I�ve ever so much as held hands with."

"Yes, but that�s because Morgan is romantically interested in you. I don�t parade my romantic entanglements for all to see."

Samantha paused, realizing that Eun was right about that. Early on, he�d made a few perfunctory passes at her but even then she�d thought his heart hadn�t been in it. And since then� she�d never seen him with any girl at all. Apparently, he was more private than she�d realized. "Okay," she finally admitted. "But if Lazarus had been sleeping with the daughter of the Museum�s curator, I think we�d have heard some mention of it."

Eun sighed, knowing that Samantha carried a torch for Lazarus Gray nearly the size of the one borne aloft by the Statue of Liberty. But she also had feelings for Morgan, which led to all kinds of stress within Assistance Unlimited. Gray seemed unaware of Samantha�s desires, which only made things tenser.

Only Eun stayed out of the group�s romantic entanglements, preferring to keep his homosexuality quiet. "Lazarus says that he had a brief fling with her a few months after coming to Sovereign. It didn�t last, partially because his amnesia put a wall between them. That�s all we need to know."

Samantha pursed her pretty lips. "You said that The Claw called her his lover. Present-tense."

"I don�t think they�re still together." Eun�s tone became a bit harsher now, as his temper gave way. "And what difference does it make anyway? He has the right to live his own life. All of us do!"

Samantha blinked in surprise, realizing she�d hit some sort of nerve. "Sorry, Eun. I didn�t mean anything, really. I was just jealous, that�s all."

Eun looked out the window and took a deep breath. "No. I�m the one who needs to apologize. It�s just� I�ve been keeping a relationship from the rest of you, too."

Samantha relaxed, feeling more at ease now. She reached out and patted Eun on the shoulder. "That�s wonderful, Eun. When can I meet her?"

"Him."

"What?"

Eun turned his head slightly, so that he could see her face. "Him. Not her."

Samantha�s mouth parted in surprise. "Oh." A second later, she recovered her usual sense of decorum. "Well, then. Him. When I do get to meet him?"

A faint smile played across Eun�s lips. "You don�t mind, do you?"

"Did you think that I would?"

"Not really. It�s just hard to share sometimes. You understand?"

Samantha paused and then nodded slowly. She knew what Eun was really saying: that there were things everyone kept hidden. Maybe this was one of those sorts of things for Lazarus.

Though Samantha had thought of Kelly Emerson as merely "the curator�s daughter," she was in fact much more. A graduate of Sovereign University, Kelly held doctorates in archaeology and anthropology. Standing nearly six feet tall and possessed of flowing red hair, she looked like a modern Amazon, with enough curves to unsettle even the most ardent of playboys. Her glittering green eyes and full lips had warmed Gray�s heart when he�d first met her and their love affair was still recent enough that both of them found it slightly uncomfortable to be in the same room.

Lazarus stood facing her cluttered desk, his eyes traveling over the familiar walls. Several tribal masks from Africa were placed above a crowded bookcase, while a mummified cat sat perched watchfully on a nearby table.

Kelly wore a long white dress that buttoned down the front. She normally hated to wear dresses or skirts but found that it eased dealings with men when she was at the museum. Given her druthers, she would have traipsed around in hiking boots, khaki shorts and a sensible shirt. Alas, it was still a man�s world, even in the modern era of 1935.

"You can sit down, you know," she said, opening a slim cigarette case. "You still don�t smoke?"

"No, I don�t." Gray picked up a stack of papers and set them on the floor, freeing up a chair for him sit down in. "You don�t seem to be taking this very seriously."

Kelly took a drag on her cigarette and leaned back in her chair. She crossed her legs, somewhat disappointed that Gray�s eyes didn�t take the bait. "Let me get this straight. The person who burned down the orphanage is actually a demon known as The God of Hate. This monster has threatened to take your lover hostage and so that�s why you�re here?" Kelly shrugged her shoulders. "We haven�t been lovers for a long time, Lazarus. You don�t think he meant anyone else?"

"I haven�t been with another woman."

Kelly dropped her gaze and sighed. "You�re a strange one, Mr. Gray. Ever get that memory of yours straightened out?"

"Somewhat. I know what my name used to be and I know a few details about my past. But most of it still seems like a dream; like it happened to someone else."

"What�s your real name?"

"Lazarus Gray."

Kelly laughed. "Okay. So the old you is dead and gone, then?"

"For all intents and purposes. There�s still an organization out there that I used to have ties to� but I hope to take care of that soon."

"Well, I�m happy for you." Kelly blew out a long stream of smoke, her lips pursed. "So what do you want me to do? Lock myself in my office until the danger�s passed?"

"No. I�d like to keep you at Assistance Unlimited headquarters."

"But you said The God of Hate managed to waltz right in there. What makes you think I�d be any safer there?"

"I�d feel better if you were closer to me."

The silence that followed was uncomfortable for them both. When Kelly decided to speak, her voice was much softer and the confidence she generally exuded seemed shaken. "Do you really think he�s going to come after me?"

"I�m positive of it."

Kelly ground out her cigarette in a small tray on her desk and stood up. "Okay. Let me go tell Daddy that I�m going to be going away for a few days. Then I�d like to go by my home and get some spare clothing and toiletries."

"I can drive you there," Gray said, getting to his feet.

"Okay." Kelly opened the door and offered him a brief smile. "Daddy�s office is just down the hall. Wait for me?"

Gray nodded quickly, watching her go. He moved to the door and kept his eyes on her as she moved to a nearby office and stepped inside. After hearing Eun�s description of The Claw�s visit, he�d become more unnerved than before. Threats to his friends and loved ones were the worst sort: they made him feel helpless and desperate.

A small chirruping sound emanated from the pocket of his coat and he reached inside, pulling out one of the small radio devices he used to keep in contact with his aides. To his surprise, the device was showing the numbered code that belonged to Morgan, along with the extension code for danger. Since Morgan was overseas, that meant his call had been relayed through a number of different circuits before finally arriving in the States. How long ago it had been sent was impossible to determine.

Lazarus was about to call Samantha and Eun when a loud crash came from the office of Kelly�s father, followed by a scream of terror that could only have belonged to Kelly herself.

Before anyone else on the floor had even poked their heads out of their own offices, Lazarus had reached the scene. When pressed, he was as fast as a cheetah and nearly as graceful.

Unfortunately, no human alive would have been fast enough to stop what was occurring. By the time he flung open the door, gun drawn, it was too late. The Claw had somehow walked straight through the walls, just as he had back at Gray�s Robeson Avenue home. He had kidnapped Kelly and left her father lying on the floor, a deep gash in his neck.

Gray crouched down at the man�s side, immediately applying pressure to the wound. He looked up as another museum employee looked inside. "Get an ambulance! Now!" Gray barked and the man jumped to follow the orders.

Even as he assured Mr. Emerson that everything was going to be all right, Gray was mentally berating himself for allowing her out of his sight.

The Claw was keeping his word so far and Gray knew that he had no choice but to play along if he wanted to ensure Kelly�s safety. His eyes caught sight of a paper hanging off the edge of the desk and, without losing the pressure he was applying to the man�s neck, he snatched it up with his other hand. The scrawled words matched those from the earlier letter he�d received: COME TO THE OLD ABANDONED CHURCH ON EISNER WAY, ALONE, AT NINE O�CLOCK TONIGHT. DO NOT IGNORE MY INSTRUCTIONS OR THE GIRL WILL SUFFER!

Lazarus tossed the paper aside and fished out his communication device. He began speaking at once, transmitting to Eun�s radio, knowing that Samantha would hear every word as well. "The Claw�s taken her. I�m going to take care of him but I need the two of you to board a plane and head to Paris right away. Morgan needs help."

"But what about you, Chief?" The tone in Eun�s voice made it clear that he didn�t like abandoning his employer.

"The Claw wants me to come alone, so I�m not going to be able to use you two. Morgan�s overseas, facing The Illuminati. Without more details, we have to assume the worst. Sending one of you might not be enough to save him."

Morgan had long since forgotten about the distress signal he�d sent. Things had proceeded to a point where his thoughts were entirely shifted away from where they had been. Louis had told him that he could take him to a hidden location, a vault of artifacts where Morgan could not only find out more about The Illuminati but also personal details related to Walther Lunt.

It had crossed Morgan�s mind that this might be another trap but he�d seen something in the other man�s eyes that made him trust the fellow. Louis hated Lunt and was willing to risk his own life if it meant striking back at his enemy.

And so they had come to a small chateau just outside the city. The grasses were high and the entire property looked abandoned. Louis had told him that this was one of Lunt�s safe houses, one of nearly two dozen scattered throughout Europe. It was here that he stored many of his treasures and personal papers. Louis had been inside only once before, having accepted an invitation from Lunt himself several years before the incident that had severed their relations.

Morgan had wandered around the house before rejoining Louis at the front door. Assured that there seemed to be no ambush waiting to happen, Morgan consented to follow the other man inside. The house had been quite nice, with several paintings that were probably worth more than Morgan would have made in a lifetime, even at the generous wages provided by Lazarus.

But it was what lay in the cellar that had driven all thoughts about his friends from Morgan�s mind. Louis had shown him a small metal box about the size of a footrest. There was a knocking from within the box, a thrashing about that intensified as the men approached. It sounded like someone had locked a small dog or cat inside.

"What�s in there?" Morgan asked, staring at the container, a sense of dread rising up from the pit of his stomach. His bowels suddenly felt loose and threatening.

"The truth about The Illuminati and how it�s managed to become all that it is."

Morgan frowned, not liking the overly dramatic presentation. Even so, he sensed that Louis truly meant these words and was not using them in an attempt to scare him.

Morgan knelt in front of the box and slowly unlatched its lid, opening it a few inches at a time. When he finally saw what lay within, looking dried up and emaciated, he let out an audible gasp and backed away, letting the box lid drop shut. Though he�d only gazed upon the unholy creature for a matter of seconds, he knew the image would be burned into his mind forever: though the beast had looked half-mummified, it still lived and the drooping folds of its skin indicated that in full health, it would have possessed a bloated corpulence. The creature�s head was pulpy and tentacled, surmounting a grotesquely scaled body with rudimentary wings. The monster was vaguely anthropoid with an octopus-like head. Sharp claws on the hind and forefeet made it quite clear that this was a dangerous beast but most awful of all was its fearsome and unnatural malignancy. This was something that should not exist. And yet, it did� and it fought against its own death even now, thrashing about in the box that was its prison.

"What in God�s name was that?" Morgan asked, once his strength of will had returned.

"Cthulhi," Louis answered. "The Star-Spawn of a great and powerful creature. They arrived on Earth with their unholy master and most of them are trapped beneath the waves now, all locked away in the basalt city of R�lyeh. The Illuminati are the human servants of these ancient beasts. They hope to be amongst the few to survive the terrors that will come when R�lyeh rises from beneath the sea."

Morgan turned away from the horrible box and the horror it contained. He wished that he could talk to Lazarus right now. His employer knew a lot about these sorts of things and how to deal with them� but Morgan was simply an old con man who had gone straight. He wasn�t really suited to dealing with fallen gods. "I�m not sure how you think this is going to help," he said at last, turning his head toward Louis.

"Because once you understand why a man does what he does, you have a chance of beating him. Walther Lunt and all the rest of them, they�re looking to accomplish two things: the first is that they�re accumulating all the occult knowledge in the world so that they can find the key to unlocking R�lyeh�s prison. They want to raise it again, awakening all the monsters that slumber within. But before they do that, they want to make sure that they�re in positions of power the world over. When the Old Ones return, The Illuminati hope to be overseers for the human slaves who will be like cattle for the monsters. In return, they�ll be granted favors and � hopefully � be spared the full brunt of the terrors that await humanity."

"And that�s why you work with them?"

Louis laughed hoarsely. "No. I work for them because they pay very, very well. It�s a gamble, you see� I�m not high enough up the food chain to look forward to the raising of R�lyeh. I�d end up dead or worse in the New World Order. But The Illuminati hasn�t raised that city in all the centuries they�ve been around so I�m taking the chance they won�t do it during my lifetime, either."

"You know all this� What they�re really about� and you still take their money? You still work to help them?"

The cultist shrugged his shoulders. "The world�s never done much for me. Why should I care what happens to it?"

Morgan had holstered his gun before unlatching the box but he drew it now, making Louis tense. "Thank you for showing me this," he said. "It does solidify something for me."

Louis watched him warily. "And what�s that?"

Morgan walked quickly toward the box, kicking the lid open with the toe of his shoe. He pointed his pistol at the awful thing within and pulled the trigger three quick times in succession, the bullets reducing the sickly monster to a splatter of blood and goo. When the deed was done, Morgan turned the gun on Louis, who quickly raised his hands in submission. "Monsters need to die."

Morgan pulled the trigger twice more.

Ten minutes later, Morgan was outside the chateau, having busied himself by pouring gasoline around the exterior of the property. He struck a match and tossed it onto the ground, moving away as the flame sent the gasoline into a sudden frenzy. He knew that Lazarus didn�t really approve of murder � and that�s what this had been, no doubt about it. But Morgan had realized something while listening to Louis: this wasn�t some gang lord they were trying to take down or a criminal enterprise, even a worldwide one. This was a war, one that would hold the continued existence of the human race in the balance. As far as Morgan was concerned, there was no murder in war, at least not so far as it concerned two combatants.

And the sooner the rest of Assistance Unlimited realized the same thing, the better off they�d all be.

Eisner Way had once been a nice residential area and the O�Reilly Church had been one of the beating hearts of the community. But like so much else in Sovereign City, it had gradually become grimier until all the beauty was hidden beneath several layers of sludge. When the economy crashed back in �29, Eisner had slowly become a veritable graveyard as families moved to less expensive parts of the city. The church had finally shut its doors in �32.

Lazarus Gray stood outside the church and tried to imagine it in better times. This city was so much like him in that both had held such promise. He had been a brilliant student, for whom the whole world seemed to beckon. Sovereign had been a port city that could have become the very best of America.

But then Lazarus had fallen prey to The Illuminati and corruption had threatened to overwhelm him, just as Sovereign had become a breeding ground for those who would use their power for abuse.

It had taken death and resurrection for the man known as Richard Winthrop to become Lazarus Gray. What would it take for Sovereign to rise phoenix-like into a new and better form?

Lazarus looked up at the sky and a drop of water struck him in the forehead. It felt as if the city herself was about to cry. Gray hurried toward the doors of the church and was unsurprised when they opened of their own accord at his approach. He had kept his end of the bargain, arriving alone but he was far from unarmed. Beneath his jacket he wore two guns holstered over each breast, a knife at his hip and a police baton strapped to his right calf. He wasn�t sure any of those things would help against The Claw but he was willing to give them all a try.

Nearly two-dozen candles, arranged throughout, illuminated the interior of the church. Many pews remained though almost all had been turned over or shattered. The smells of mildew, urine and rotten wood filled Gray�s nostrils but he ignored everything except the sight above the pulpit. Kelly Emerson hung upside down, her arms and legs tied securely to an inverted cross. A gag was clenched tightly in her open mouth and her face was crimson, from the strain of her position and from the fear she obviously felt. There were no bruises or marks on her, though her shirt had been torn during the affair, revealing her white brassiere and heaving bosom. Her eyes widened when she saw her former lover and Gray could sense sudden hope springing forth from her.

Addressing her, Lazarus said, "I�m going to get you down from there, Kelly. Trust me."

The girl nodded quickly, indicating that she did.

"Enticing you here proved ludicrously easy."

Gray jerked his head around at the sudden intrusion. The Claw was stepping from the shadows to his left, looking monstrous. The villain held his arms in front of him, his hands clasped within voluminous robes. "If you wanted to face me, you could have at any point," Gray said. "You proved that when you broke into my home. So why kidnap Kelly? Why kill all those innocent children?"

"You know the answer to that," The Claw responded. "I did those things because I enjoyed them."

Gray took a deep breath, not enjoying this confrontation at all. He was on someone else�s home field with a loved one in danger. And the creature behind it all was insane enough that he was capable of anything. "Let her go and we can settle this."

The God of Hate laughed and in that bubbling sound there was no mirth, only promises of pain and death. "I think not. Don�t you want her to see your heroism as you seek to stop me? I�m sure it will warm the embers of romance within her breast."

Lazarus had heard enough. He reached into his jacket and pulled out one of his pistols, firing it in the same motion. He snapped off four quick shots and all of the bullets hit home, striking The Claw between his neck and stomach. The villain jerked wildly before toppling backwards, his body vanishing as it fell over a church pew.

Gray did not pretend to think that this was the end of his opponent. Even as Kelly began to scream into her gag, wanting him to cut her down, he slowly began to approach the spot where he�d last seen The Claw. As he moved within a few feet, he caught a brief glimpse of the monster�s robe on the floor. He sprang forward, leaping over the pew. He landed directly atop the robe but found that it was empty, having obviously been discarded. A sudden flurry of movement from behind him was coupled by another scream from Kelly. He realized that she was trying to warn him but in truth, she was doing more harm than good: with her making so much noise, he was unable to hear The Claw with any effectiveness.

Still, he managed to turn his body just in time to see the villain rushing toward him, claws extended. Gray ducked under one swipe of the deadly knives but the second caught him on the left shoulder, slicing through fabric and skin easily enough. Gray dropped his gun deliberately at this point, the weapon clattering at his feet. He used both hands to grab hold of The Claw�s arm and yanked him forward. The motion took The God of Hate by surprise and he nearly lost his footing. Gray drove a hard punch into The Claw�s chin and the villain�s sharp teeth bit through a section of his own bottom lip, causing blood to flow freely.

The Claw jerked away, anger clouding his eyes. He roared like a trapped lion and swiped out with his claws again, narrowly missing taking off Gray�s head.

Gray bent to retrieve his pistol and charged forward, lowering his shoulder and slamming it hard into The Claw�s midsection, lifting the villain off his feet. Gray drove him back into the wall and plaster rained down on them both. Lazarus began pummeling the villain�s body with punches, slamming them home with all the strength of a desperate man.

The Claw seemed shocked by the way the combat was going and he angrily shoved Gray away from him, giving him just enough time to indulge in one of his most useful spells: before Gray�s shocked eyes, The Claw began to grow in size, his entire body expanding until he was so tall that his head scraped against the high vaulted ceiling. He looked down at Gray and laughed at the man�s expression. "Do you see now? Do you now grasp what it is you face? I am no mere goon for you to batter with your fists! I am a force of nature! I am Hate personified!"

Before Gray could respond, The Claw reached out with one of his hands and swiped at Kelly�s back like he was swatting a fly. The inverted cross that held her aloft snapped in two and she was sent hurtling to the floor. Lazarus burst into action, throwing himself toward her. He made it just in time, slowing the woman�s impact by literally placing his body between her and the floor. Gray screamed in pain as a shard of the cross buried itself in his midsection, pinning him to the floor. His hands were free and, despite the pain, he quickly undid Kelly�s bonds as The Claw stomped toward them.

"Get out of here," he wheezed.

Kelly looked indecisive. Her eyes kept flitting back to the mammoth horror that was now towering over them but she was obviously hesitant to leave Lazarus. "Maybe I can get you free," she said.

"No." Lazarus gripped her arm painfully hard. "If you stay here, you�ll get hurt. I need you to get out of here."

"The argument is moot," The Claw stated. "Because there is no freedom to be had for either of you." The villain raised his foot, obviously intending to grind both Kelly and Gray into paste. Before he could do so, however, a powerful spear-like object passed through his chest, entering from the back and exiting in the front. The object, which upon closer inspection Kelly recognized as a harpoon, imbedded itself in the wall. Blood spurted from The Claw�s wound and he whirled about to see where the attack had come from.

Eun Jiwon stood in the doorway of the church, quickly pushing another slender harpoon into a handheld variant of the device so common on whaling vessels. It was one of the group�s many emergency weapons and upon first seeing it, Eun had wondered when they would have ever have cause to use it. Now, he knew. "It�s a good thing Lazarus has friends, huh?" he taunted.

Gray wasn�t sure whether he should be pleased or angry. "What are you doing here?" he shouted.

"Ignoring your orders," Eun answered, pointing the weapon back toward The Claw. "Samantha and I figured that you�d need the help so we decided to split up." Eun pulled the trigger and another harpoon shot forth, this one catching The Claw in the throat. It hung there and the monster began to shrink almost immediately, using most of his energy to try and heal his wounds.

Eun tossed aside the harpoon gun � it was a powerful weapon but the weight of it and the ammunition made it impractical to use for very long. As the young Korean dropped into a fighting stance, The Claw hissed at him in fury.

Kelly, meanwhile, was using every ounce of strength to yank the shrapnel out of Gray�s belly. The normally placid features of her former lover were now twisted into a mask of pain but he stood up despite the fact he was losing blood at a prodigious rate. "Thank you, Kelly. Now please � get to safety."

"You�re in no shape for fighting," she began but Gray was already on the move.

The Claw was struggling to move � the harpoon was now much larger in relation to his shrunken body and it was almost impossible for him to remain upright.

Lazarus grabbed hold of the point of the harpoon and used it drive The Claw to his knees. "Surrender," he hissed between clenched teeth.

The Claw turned baleful yellow eyes upon him. "Never."

Lazarus stared at the God of Hate and felt bile rise up in his throat. He suddenly knew why the monster was here and why innocents had died along the way. "They sent you here, didn�t they? They wanted you to kill me."

"You frighten them," The Claw whispered. "They hate you with every fiber of their being."

"Then let�s give them reason to do so." Gray motioned for Eun to come over and take over for him. The young man grabbed hold of the harpoon, twisting it painfully every time The Claw looked like he was starting to resist.

Gray removed his second handgun and swapped out the clip that it held. Part of his arsenal consisted of explosive shells that looked like ordinary bullets. But they carried enormous power that could blow a hole in an elephant. He held the barrel against The Claw�s head now and his mismatched eyes � one emerald green, the other a dull brown � seemed to shine with an inner fire. "Go back to Hell."

"This will not be the end of me," The Claw gasped, each word punctuated by a flow of blood from his neck.

"Let�s test that, shall we?"

Several days later, the entire Assistance Unlimited group sat together in one of the expansive meeting rooms of their headquarters. Morgan and Samantha had returned from Paris the night before and the story that Morgan had revealed had left the entire room feeling somewhat despairing.

"So we�re not just dealing with a worldwide conspiracy� we�re trying to prevent the return of The Old Ones?" Samantha looked pretty in a peach-colored dress but the look on her face was so grave that not even Morgan felt like flirting with her.

"We already knew it was going to be tough," Eun countered. "This doesn�t change anything."

"That thing I saw," Morgan whispered, "It was� wrong. I don�t know how else to describe it. I can still see it when I close my eyes, can still hear the noises it made. We have to not just stop them� we have to destroy them."

"That�s not going to be easy," Eun said. "I was there when Lazarus blew the head off The Claw. And do you know what happened? The thing�s body turned to smoke. He�s not dead. He�s still out there."

Morgan nodded. "Maybe so. But I killed that little bastard that was in the box. They can die. Maybe we�ve just got to get them so weak first that they can�t perform their magic�."

Gray cleared his throat and all eyes turned to him. He was dressed in a somber black suit and tie, his handsome face looking as still as the grave. "Morgan got us some useful information while in Paris and our defeat of The Claw will let The Illuminati know that we�re not to be trifled with. We have to consider this a victory."

"Won�t they just send The Claw back after you? Or somebody even worse?" Samantha asked.

"In time, yes. But for now I think we�ve given them enough to think about that Sovereign should be free of their influence for the time being." Gray stood up, smoothing down his suit. "And now I�d like to take all of you out to dinner."

Morgan blinked in surprise. The group often ate together in the dining room but they�d never gone out en masse before. "What�s the occasion, Chief?"

"As I said, we�ve won some hard-earned victories lately. And I want to show my appreciation to all of you. Though it�s not always easy for me to admit it, we�re more than coworkers. We�re friends."

Eun cleared his throat, exchanging a glance with Samantha. "Mind if I invite somebody along?"

"Not at all. I think we�d all like to meet this mystery person you�ve been dating. I imagine he�ll fit right in."

Eun smiled, relaxing a bit. He instinctively knew that Samantha hadn�t told his secrets: Lazarus simply saw the truth, as he always did. "Thank you."

Lazarus nodded. "So. Where shall we go?"

"Italian."

"A steak house."

"That deli on 8th Street."

The group looked around at each other and everyone abruptly began to laugh. It was a good sound, Lazarus decided. He hoped to hear more of it as the days went by.

Maurice Chapman opened a small white container and pushed a rubber-gloved finger into the white material it contained. He then smeared the grease under his nose, wincing slightly. He offered the container to the two people who were in the autopsy room with him: the dainty, beautiful Samantha Grace and her employer, the tall and thin Lazarus Gray. "You�ll want some of this," Maurice said when neither of his guests took the container.

"We�ll be fine," Gray answered, his mismatched eyes focused on the body that was hidden beneath a white sheet. The corpse�s feet extended past the sheet and he could see that her toes had been painted red, probably a week or so before the murder. The paint was chipped in places and in need of a touch-up. The scent of medicinal products and cleansers was almost overwhelming, but it didn�t come close to matching the odor of putrification that arose from the dead body.

Chapman resisted the urge to press the matter. He was sixty-two years old, born and raised in the cesspool that was Sovereign City. He�d seen burly cops enter his lab and turn away vomiting at the things he showed them. He knew false bravado when he saw it � and neither of these two were displaying it. Lazarus Gray looked like a man who had seen enough death to no longer be disturbed by it. Chapman studied him for a moment, having read about the man in the newspapers but never having met him before. The head of Assistance Unlimited�s hair was more gray than brown, making him look older than he was, though a close examination of his features revealed that he was in his late twenties. He was tall and slender, though with a rangy musculature that indicated he could more than hold himself in a fight.

The girl was another matter entirely and it was only because Chapman had known the girl during her youth that he knew she was more than she appeared. A stunning blonde whose parents were wealthy philanthropists, Samantha had grown up with every opportunity possible. She could speak five languages fluently, was a champion swimmer, and was a veritable encyclopedia on topics as varied as fashion, European history, and the socio-political climate of the Orient. Chapman would normally have balked at having a female in his lab, especially when he was about to show off a corpse in this state � but Samantha Grace was no mere slip of a girl, despite how she might look at first glance.

Chapman set the container aside and pulled the sheet away, revealing a body that had been horribly mutilated. The nude form was neatly bisected at the waist and the face had been slashed from the corners of the mouth to the ears, giving her a macabre parody of a smile. The dead woman�s black hair was matted and still bore traces of leaves and insect casings. Her body was that of a fit young woman and was admirably formed, but the unhealthy condition of the body was consistent with being exposed to the elements for several days before discovery.

"The victim was 24 years of age," Chapman began. "Her body was found in a vacant lot on the west side of South Page Avenue midway between West 42nd Street and Robeson Avenue."

Samantha exchanged a quick glance with Lazarus. "That�s not far from our headquarters." She was obviously troubled to think that a woman could have been brutally assaulted so close to where she and her friends slept every night.

Gray nodded silently, urging Chapman to continue with a quick motion of his hand.

"The body was discovered by a local resident named Betty King who was walking with her four year old son earlier this morning. If you�ll notice, the wounds are very clean. They were done with surgical instruments and the body was drained of blood. There are signs that the corpse was washed, probably in an attempt to remove traces of evidence. Furthermore, the body was posed with the left arm draped across the breasts and the right hand covering the pubis region."

"As if she were covering her nudity," Samantha observed and Chapman murmured an agreement. "So she wasn�t killed at the scene? Someone dumped her there?"

Chapman spread his hands. "I�m no detective but in my opinion, that would be the case."

"Who was she?" Lazarus asked. Chapman found himself staring at the man�s eyes: one was a dull brown and the other a glittering emerald.

"Her name was Claudia Schuller. A packet was sewn to the skin between her shoulder blades and it contained the items you see over there." Chapman gestured toward a nearby table upon which a number of papers had been arranged.

Gray moved toward them, slowly touching each one. Claudia�s birth certificate was the first thing he lifted, but he also brushed his fingers across business cards, photographs, names written on pieces of paper, and an address book with the name Max Davies embossed on the cover.

"Has anyone contacted Mr. Davies?"

"Of course we have. We don�t just sit around waiting on you to solve all the crimes for us."

Lazarus turned his head to see that Inspector Cord of the Sovereign PD had entered the room. He was a whippet-thin man who had one eye that seemed to be perpetually narrowed. His disdain for Assistance Unlimited � and its founder, in particular � was well known. "Inspector. Just the man I was hoping to see."

"I doubt that." Cord reached up and removed his hat, bowing slightly to Samantha. "Afternoon, Miss."

Samantha gave him a cool smile in reply.

"You were saying that your men had contacted Mr. Davies?" Lazarus prompted.

"Oh, yes." Cord took out a cigarette and lit it, though he knew that Gray hated the smell. He moved closer to Gray, blowing out a long cloud of smoke that enveloped the taller man. "He�s here in Sovereign, on business he says. Apparently, his father � Warren Davies, now dead � was a newspaperman back in Boston. One of the papers he owned at one time was The Sovereign Gazette. The younger Davies still has some stock in the paper, though he�s a minority holder. Says he met Miss Schuller for the first time about a week ago at a dinner party thrown by the Gazette�s current majority owner, Theodore Groseclose. Supposedly, they went out together for drinks two nights later and that was the last time he saw her. Coincidentally, it�s the last time anybody�s reported seeing her."

Samantha looked at Chapman. "How long ago did she die?"

"I�d estimate it was about five days ago, given the rate of decomposition."

Lazarus knew what his aide was getting at and so did Inspector Cord. Five days ago would have been the same night she�d had dinner with Max Davies. "Where is Mr. Davies now?" Gray asked, confident he already knew the answer.

"He�s coming in for questioning right now. I think we�ve got him dead to rights." Cord took a long drag on his cigarette, a look of confidence on his face. "Last man seen with her and there�s his address book right there."

"Then who sewed this packet onto her back?" Gray asked, his words carefully neutral but his eyes betraying his dislike for the other man.

"What do you mean? He did, of course. Davies."

"Why would he include his own address book? And these business cards: Robert Phillips, Chairman of the city�s Building Association; Merle Hansome, Attorney; Theodore Groseclose� all of them should be questioned but I don�t think any of them are the killer." Lazarus looked back at the corpse of Claudia Schuller. He tried to imagine her in life, young and beautiful. It was difficult with her reduced to a bisected piece of meat. "Whoever did this horrible act wanted us to know these men�s names. The question is: why?"

Cord looked like he�d bitten into something sour. "You�re over thinking things, Gray. In order to kill like this, a man has to be insane. Once you establish that, none of his actions should be taken as a surprise. I�ve seen killers throw themselves into our grasp, explaining every gruesome detail of their acts. That�s probably what happened here. Davies wants to be caught." Cord lowered his voice, doing a stage whisper that was easily overheard by Samantha. "Besides, this isn�t the first time that Davies has come to the attention of the law."

Gray looked at him steadily, waiting for Cord to continue. When it became obvious that Gray wasn�t going to say anything, Cord took several more puffs on his cigarette before uttering a sigh.

"Back in Boston, there were accusations that he might be related to a murderous vigilante known as The Peregrine. Nothing could ever be proven but get this: he�s put his home up for sale. Rumor has it he�s planning to head out west or maybe down south. Why would an innocent man flee the town he�d grown up in? Maybe because he�s not so innocent?"

Gray turned away from Cord and caught Samantha�s eye. Without a word to Cord and just a brief thanks to Chapman, the duo exited the room.

"Where to, Chief?" Samantha asked, the clicking of her heels on the tiled floor seeming very loud. Gray noticed she was wearing a new scent today and he found the perfume to be quite pleasing. He wasn�t blind to her interest in him but for many reasons, he didn�t think it wise to encourage it.

"We�re going to speak to Max Davies."

Samantha smiled softly. "You�re planning to get to him before Cord does, aren�t you?"

A rare grin seemed to dance upon Gray�s lips, but it vanished so quickly that Samantha wasn�t sure if she had actually seen it. "No sense in allowing the Inspector to ruin a perfectly good investigation."

Max Davies was thirty-five years old, though he could have passed for a man ten years younger. He was stunningly handsome with wavy black hair and a slightly Olive complexion, which made Samantha think that he had Mediterranean ancestry. He wore a black suit, white shirt and red tie, looking like he�d stepped off the cover of a European fashion magazine.

Having booked the penthouse at Sovereign City�s most expensive hotel, Davies was reclining in relative luxury when Lazarus and Samantha arrived to speak with him. The room looked barely lived in, despite the fact he�d been staying there for over a week.

Davies was sitting now, his legs crossed before him. He held a small glass of scotch in one hand though Gray was positive the man was merely swirling it about in his glass for effect. Twice he�d brought it to his lips without actually taking a sip.

"You two just caught me," Davies was saying, gesturing for both of his guests to take a seat. "I was just walking out the door."

"We appreciate you taking the time to speak to us," Samantha said, smoothing her skirt over her long legs. She noticed that Max�s eyes dipped down to watch the gesture and she smiled. Though she was the equal of any man when it came to a fight, she wasn�t above using her beauty to her advantage. After all, it was one more weapon in her arsenal.

"How could I refuse an invitation from someone so attractive?" Max smoothly replied. With a twinkle in his eye, he added, "And might I say, Miss Grace, that you�re quite a looker as well."

Samantha stared at him for a moment before the joke hit her. She looked over at Lazarus and saw that he wasn�t quite as charmed as she was.

"Mr. Davies, perhaps you don�t understand the severity of this situation," Lazarus said, his voice betraying absolutely no emotion. "You�re the last person known to have seen Claudia Schuller alive. And an address book bearing your name was found on her person."

"Along with the business cards of other men, isn�t that right?"

"How did you know that?" Lazarus asked, his eyes narrowing.

"Inspector Cord told me when he phoned earlier."

Samantha could see Lazarus visibly composing himself. He didn�t care much for Cord�s methods, which bordered on the incompetent at times. "You�re still considered the prime suspect. Could you tell us the nature of your relationship with Miss Schuller?"

"She was at a party I attended. Apparently, she works in the newspaper secretarial pool. She was alone at the soiree and so was I. We struck up a conversation and I invited her to have dinner with me. She agreed to do and a couple of nights later, we went out and ate at O�Malley�s. Afterward, we came back here."

"And then?"

Max glanced quickly at Samantha, who was the very picture of decorum. "Miss Schuller remained here for several hours and left my residence just past midnight."

"Did the two of you have sexual relations?" Lazarus asked.

"No. Not if you mean intercourse, anyway."

Samantha felt a flush rise to her cheeks and she smoothed out her skirt once more.

"And everything that happened here was consensual?" Lazarus didn�t seem shocked by Max�s intimations and Samantha remembered that in his old life, the one he�d had before arriving in Sovereign City, Lazarus had lived in Europe and traveled a great deal. He�d been exposed to things that weren�t openly discussed in polite company.

As Max answered in the affirmative, Samantha found herself studying her employer. Not quite two years ago, Lazarus Gray had literally washed up on the shores of the city with no memory of who he really was. In his possession had been a small medallion depicting a nude male figure with the head of a lion. The words �Lazarus Gray� had been printed below the image and he�d taken the name as his own. It wasn�t until after founding Assistance Unlimited, a group dedicated to helping those in need, regardless of their ability to pay, that Lazarus had learned the truth: that once he�d been Richard Winthrop, a member of a ruthless International organization known as The Illuminati. He�d turned against them and had nearly lost his life in the process. Now, he fought against his old allies, standing up to the forces of darkness with only his three aides at his side: Samantha, the young Korean Eun Jiwon, and former confidence man Morgan Watts.

Max set down his glass and leaned forward, clasping his hands between his knees. "I assure you, Mr. Gray, that I�m not the kind of man who would have done those things to a woman. To anyone, really." Something passed over the man�s face that caught Samantha�s attention � it was like a veil had fallen over his eyes. "I saw my father gunned down by criminals when I was eight years old. He was a good man and he taught me to stand up for those in need. I�ve tried to do that all my life. The kind of killer who did this� that�s the kind of man who should be brought to justice."

Lazarus said nothing in response for a long moment, though it was obvious that his mind was running through everything that Max had just said. "I believe you, Mr. Davies. But it doesn�t change the fact that a young woman is dead and that someone, for whatever reason, wanted your name thrown into the mix. Do you have any idea how your address book came to be with her body?"

"No. Someone obviously broke into my hotel room at some point but I never saw any sign of it and when I asked the clerk downstairs, he assured me that no one other than the cleaning staff had been here in my absence."

Samantha spoke up, voicing a thought that had come to her repeatedly since they�d left the morgue. "Maybe they just wanted to waste everyone�s time, forcing the police down fruitless paths, while the real killer escapes town."

"That�s possible," said Max, standing up and quickly crossing to a small briefcase that lay on a nearby table. He opened it as he continued to talk. "But unlikely. The killer�s still here in Sovereign."

Gray watched as Max returned with several newspaper clippings in his grasp. Gray took them and his eyes quickly scanned the words, drinking in their meaning. "This wasn�t the first murder," Gray murmured.

Max nodded, noting the look of surprise on Samantha�s face. "Three years ago, a prostitute was found with her hands and feet removed. The body had been bled dry and washed. Six months later, a fourteen year old runaway girl was found, beheaded and with one leg missing. Again � surgical cuts, the body was dry and had been washed. Last fall, a third one was found: a Chinese immigrant who made a living washing clothes for others. Her breasts had been surgically removed but the other aspects matched perfectly: the body had not a drop of blood left in it and the murder occurred elsewhere with the body having been cleaned afterward."

Samantha shook her head in amazement. "That doesn�t make sense. Why didn�t Cord mention that?"

"Because he doesn�t know," Lazarus answered. "Miss Schuller is the first victim who would be considered of any importance. Prostitutes and immigrants aren�t high priorities. There aren�t many family members to press for an investigation. They�re simply forgotten."

Max nodded. "That�s right. It�s actually the real reason why I�m here. I sometimes comb through old crime reports, looking for story ideas that I can feed to the editors of the papers I still have a stake in. I came here to talk to Mr. Groseclose about these murders and to see if the Gazette could look into them."

Lazarus took a deep breath before speaking. "May I take these clippings with me?"

"Feel free."

Lazarus collected them and nodded to Samantha. She understood the gesture and stood up. They were leaving, as Lazarus had evidently gotten everything he thought he needed from Max Davies.

Lazarus placed a hand on Max�s shoulder. "I�m sorry to say that you�ll still be expected to visit the police station and file a formal statement. I think you should heed my advice: don�t mention these clippings or the other murders. To a man like Cord, your knowledge of such things might only increase the likelihood of your involvement."

"You believe me, though?"

"Yes. I do. You�re much more than you appear to be, I�m sure of that� but you�re not the man we�re looking for."

Samantha wondered at those words, but said nothing until they were outside in the car. "I�m not sure I believe all that," she said at last.

Lazarus started the car and began smoothly gliding it down the perpetually rain-slicked streets of the city. "You mean that he came here in response to the murders?"

"Well, yes. I mean, it seems terribly convenient, doesn�t it? He comes here because he knows women are being murdered. They�re all vagabonds or street people so nobody cares about them. Then he meets a girl who doesn�t fit that pattern � but sure enough, the killer takes an interest in her anyway."

Lazarus glanced toward her and that faint hint of a smile that he sometimes got reasserted itself before vanishing, like a thin wisp of smoke. "I�d wager that we only saw the real Max Davies at the end of that conversation. The moment he shared with us the details about those other murders, his demeanor changed. Before that, the bored playboy routine, the overly flirtatious act � it was just that. An act."

"So you think he might be the killer?"

"Oh, no. I don�t think that at all. I think he�s someone with genuine concern about these women but for some reason, he doesn�t want the world to know it. I�ll look into his background when I get the chance but for now, I don�t think we should waste our time focusing on him."

"What about the other men whose names were found with her body?"

"As we were leaving the station, I stopped to call the Assistance Unlimited HQ. Eun and Morgan have been looking into the other men who have been implicated in this."

Samantha nodded, looking out the passenger side window. She saw one gray-colored building after another. It looked like the entire city was slowly falling under a haze of decay. "That poor girl. No one should die like that. And to think that more women have died over the years, with no one missing them� It makes me wonder if we can ever really save this place. My grandparents used to tell me that Sovereign wasn�t always like this but nowadays it�s hard to believe that. There�s something rotten at the core of the city, Lazarus. It�s breeding murder, corruption and despair."

Samantha felt her employer�s hand settle on hers. He gave it a firm squeeze and when he spoke, there was unusual emotion in his words. "You�re right. The heart of Sovereign is spoiled. That�s why we�ve got to find the source of the evil and carve it out."

The death of Claudia Schuller was front-page news on every paper in the city. The Gazette ran two photos, one depicting Claudia on the day of her high school graduation and the other a grainy crime scene image with a body draped by a police blanket. The grisly details were listed in explicit detail, bringing fresh pain to the victim�s family and friends.

Speculation was rife. Though the names of the men implicated were not revealed in the papers, rumors linked virtually every prominent businessman in the city with the young woman. Stories circulated that she had been of loose morals and had traded her beauty for monetary gifts from the men.

"Read about de slain beauty! Police officials baffled as investigation continues! All de details included here! Will the killer strike again?"

A newsboy�s cry caught the attention of two men who were riding down Main Street in a taxi. One of the men � an elderly, gray-haired gentleman in a tweed suit � turned to his young companion and asked, "What�s this about a murder, Smithson? I didn�t hear anything about such a thing when we were coming in on the train yesterday."

"Young Miss Claudia Schuller was brutally murdered a few days ago," Smithson answered. He was a handsome man with dark hair and eyes. "The papers are abuzz with the news. It was quite awful, from what I�ve heard."

"I haven�t read any of today�s papers," remarked the elderly man. "Such a violent city," he added with a shake of his head.

Smithson waited for the question that he knew was inevitably going to come.

"Schuller, you say? Didn�t we meet her at the party thrown by Groseclose? Attractive young thing from his secretarial pool?"

Smithson nodded, his face drawn grave with concern. "We did, Mr. Melvin. She was quite generous in her praise of your revitalization efforts in the city�s East Side."

Donald Melvin bit his lower lip, his eyes taking on a faraway state. "Awful. To be cut down in the prime of life like that. She could have made some man very happy, you know."

Smithson said nothing, hoping that this turn of conversation wouldn�t ruin his employer�s mood. The meeting they were going to was an important one and Melvin sometimes lapsed into gloomy periods that impacted his decisions. Amalgamated Industries was Melvin�s pride and joy and it was currently involved in the removal of dozens of unsightly tenement buildings, replacing them with tremendous structures that towered over the landscape. In decades to come, people would point to Melvin�s work as a key part in the revitalization of Sovereign City.

Smithson and Melvin stepped from their cab and entered the lobby of The Amici Hotel, a massive building that occupied an entire block. One of the few new hotels to have opened since the Stock Market Crash of �29, The Amici prided itself on an aristocratic atmosphere.

Within the gorgeous lobby, Smithson made an inquiry at the front desk and then informed Melvin that their meeting was being held on the twenty-fourth floor.

After traveling upward in an elevator, the two men stepped into a conference room where a small group was waiting for them. One by one, Smithson introduced Melvin to the men, even though in most cases, introductions were not truly necessary. It was a formality and one that the older men seemed to enjoy, as if it confirmed their importance in things.

Theodore Groseclose, publisher and chief editor of the Sovereign Gazette, was the first to shake Melvin�s hand. Groseclose was a tall, gray-haired man in a dark suit. He looked a bit unnerved and Melvin rightly assumed it was because of the death of the man�s secretary.

Also present was Robert Phillips, Chairman of the city�s Building Association. He was a bearlike man with a thick, bristled beard and piercing eyes.

The final man to whom Melvin was introduced was Merle Hansome, a wiry fellow with thinning hair and a nervous habit of licking his upper lip. One of the most prominent attorneys in the city, Hansome was very good at his job, despite not having the demeanor to put anyone at ease.

Phillips cleared his throat as everyone took a seat. He had a commanding presence and was obviously used to being in charge. "Let�s get this under way, shall we? You�ve looked over the papers we sent your way?"

Melvin nodded, waiting for Smithson to take out a pad and paper before continuing. "I have. Fifty million dollars is quite an investment. If I�m going to do as you ask, I have to receive certain assurances."

Groseclose leaned forward, clasping his hands together on top of the table. "You know I�ll do what I can for you, Mr. Melvin. I�ve kept all the news stories about what you�re doing in a positive light. It�s going to be a little bit tougher with this new deal, but I can swing it."

Smithson dutifully took notes while the men conversed. He was skilled enough in his craft that he could let his mind wander while his pencil spun across the page, distilling the conversation into shorthand. The three other men had approached Melvin with the idea of spearheading a plan to purchase the grounds on which a hospital for the poor now resided. The sick people who currently received treatment for their infirmities were going to be kicked to the curb if the plan bore fruit, but none of these men considered that worthy of stopping their plans. The men, women, and children who frequented the place were too poor to afford treatment at standard facilities, probably resulting in dozens of deaths.

But if things went to plan, a high-rise apartment building would pop up in its place. The bottom floors would contain expensive offices while the upper rooms were rented or sold to the lucky few who could afford them. It was all part of a long-term revitalization project and one that had sparked grumbling amongst those who had been displaced. Thankfully, Hansome had made sure that all the legalities were covered, while Phillips took care of all the required permits. Groseclose then handled the media side of things, ensuring that the general populace didn�t focus too much on the negative.

Hansome stood up and began pacing, bringing the discussion to an abrupt halt.

"What the devil�s the matter with you?" Phillips demanded.

"Aren�t we going to talk about the murder?" the lawyer asked, his pink tongue darting out to wet his upper lip. "I mean, it�s the elephant in the room, if you ask me."

Melvin blinked in surprise. "What are you talking about?"

"Schuller!" Hansome ejaculated. "Are you so dense that you don�t realize what danger we�re all in? That girl was cut to pieces and all of our names are associated with her! I heard from a source at the police department that Assistance Unlimited is working on the case, too!"

"I barely knew the girl," Melvin said, shrugging his shoulders. "I don�t fear an inquiry and neither should any of you. None of you killed her, did you?"

"Of course not," Hansome muttered, though he cast a wary glance around the room. "But this could still derail our plans� the scandal!"

"There won�t be any scandal," Groseclose said reassuringly. "Didn�t you notice that I made sure none of our names ended up in the paper today? I have enough favors owed to me by the other publishers in this town to make sure we�re not linked in any rival accounts, either."

"Word will still get around," Hansome protested.

Melvin loudly exhaled. "I don�t see what all the fuss is about. So what if we all knew her? And so what if there are questions to be asked? The law will prove us innocent, mark my words."

Smithson cleared his throat and all eyes fell upon him. The handsome secretary rarely said anything during these meetings, preferring to share his views with his employer in private. "Miss Schuller was an attractive young woman but she was rather promiscuous. The rumors about that are already circulating, I believe. I think it goes without saying that several of the men in this room may have had� delicate relations� with her?" The silence that fell was answer enough � only Melvin seemed shocked by the suggestion and he was obviously about to say so when Smithson continued. "I think that Mr. Melvin is correct in saying that none of you have anything to fear. But just in case, perhaps Mr. Groseclose could have one of his journalists look into her background. Throw a bit of doubt upon her character, as it were."

Groseclose looked uncomfortable. "She wasn�t a bad person. Not at all. I�d hate to make it appear that she was."

"It was just a suggestion. I think that if people assumed that she was a bit of a tart, then they�d be less likely to focus their attentions on all of you."

"Could be just the opposite," Phillips muttered. "A pretty young girl, illicit sex, and a grisly murder� no, the more details they get, the more the people will chatter away. But I�m not worried about the police or the press � I have an alibi for the night she was murdered."

Smithson looked around the room. "Who here doesn�t have an alibi, if I might ask?"

Groseclose lit a cigar. "Of course, I saw all of you at the party earlier in the evening. After that, I retired to my bed. My butler brought me some warm milk at half past midnight."

"So it would have been possible for you to have left and done the deed," Smithson pointed out.

Groseclose looked offended at the suggestion but said nothing. He�d already heard that same accusation from the Korean who worked for Assistance Unlimited. The young immigrant had pushed Groseclose hard on the matter, but the newspaperman didn�t plan to share that with anyone in this room. They were business partners but certainly not friends.

Hansome licked his lip again, a nervous habit that left his mouth perpetually chapped. "I don�t have one. I went to a movie and then to a bar for a drink. I didn�t return home until very late. I�m not sure I could find any of the men who might have seen me."

Smithson tried not to smile. Hansome�s homosexuality was a poorly kept secret amongst the group. It made sense that he wouldn�t want to call upon any of his male companions to verify his story. Plus, given the fact that Schuller apparently wasn�t sexually assaulted might make Hansome all the more suspect if his secret came to light. Some would say that he would have struck at Schuller out of some deep-seated resentment of women.

"I think it�s all a lot of poppycock," Melvin said. "We�re all good men. To think that any one of us could ever assault a woman� it�s preposterous!"

Phillips nodded in agreement. "To get us back on track here� Are you in for more money or not, Melvin? This new project could become the centerpiece for the revitalization effort and make us all very rich men in the process." Phillips chuckled. "Or, in Melvin�s case, richer."

Melvin smiled in reply. "I am very excited about this, gentlemen. Very excited, indeed."

Night fell quickly in Sovereign City and the few residents who might be called innocents hurried for the relative safety of their homes, leaving the streets to those with darker intent.

A moving patch of darkness passed along the sidewalk beneath the glare of a street lamp. The long streak of darkness ended in a perfect silhouette. The man who cast this shadow was tall and well-built with an olive-complexion and wavy dark hair. He wore a long overcoat, a suit and tie but it was the adornment on his face that set him apart from every other man in the city: he wore a tiny domino-style mask over his eyes and on the bridge of his nose rested a tiny beak-like protrusion. This was The Peregrine, a being whom the underworld had come to greatly fear in recent years. Having left bullet-ridden bodies in his wake throughout the Northeast, The Peregrine was like a one-man police force, bringing the guilty to their final judgment, even when the Law could not touch them.

Just up ahead lay the private residence of Merle Hansome. It was a modest home, but it was light-years beyond the residences that were being torn down to make way for Melvin�s new high-rises. The Peregrine calmly approached the wrought-iron fence that surrounded the property and expertly scaled the barrier, dropping easily down to the grass on the other side. He approached the front door and lightly tried the knob. It was locked, which drove him around back. The rear entrance opened easily and The Peregrine felt a small smile form on his lips. Even in a roach�s den like Sovereign, there were men who felt themselves safe and sound in their own home. It was all like a fallacy, of course, but it made The Peregrine�s job that much easier.

Very few people in the world knew that Max Davies led a double life and even fewer still understood why he did it. An armchair psychiatrist would have zeroed in on the events that occurred when Max was eight years old and while those would have helped filled in the gaps, they would not have told the entire tale. Max�s father, Warren Davies, had run a newspaper campaign against mobsters who threatened to take over the city. When he refused to knuckle under the pressure they were putting on him, Warren found himself the target of a hired assassin. He was gunned down in front of his son and Max had the memory of his father�s final bloodstained memories imprinted into his memory.

But it was what happened later that truly set Max Davies down the path of vigilantism. A series of painful visions began to plague him, ones of crimes yet to be committed. He discovered that if he took steps to prevent them or to bring their perpetrators to justice, the painful visions would recede. Compelled by the knowledge that he would continue to suffer unless he found a way to help others, Max embarked on a years-long trek around the globe in his teens. He learned every form of martial arts known to man, studied philosophy in the Mountains of Tibet, and mastered most known sciences. On the day he first created the identity of The Peregrine, Max Davies felt a sense of liberation take hold. It was as if he were a bird taking flight for the first time.

And those who slithered in darkness found a new enemy, one who would never stop until every innocent could sleep safely in their own bed.

Hansome sat on the edge of his bed, dressed in a white dressing gown and slippers. His hands were shaking badly enough that the cup of warm milk he was holding threatened to spill. His tongue darted out, wetting his upper lip. He didn�t understand why the others weren�t taking this more seriously � even though he hadn�t done the horrible deed, he had more than enough secrets that could be exposed by an investigation.

Even more troubling was the nagging question that resided in the back of Hansome�s mind: What if one of the others was the murderer? He didn�t think that Groseclose would do such a thing and Melvin was too old and feeble to have overpowered a healthy young girl� but what about Phillips? The man was brawny and had a temper. Maybe Phillips had tried to force himself on the girl and, when she refused, he�d gotten so angry that he�d cut her to pieces. Phillips had claimed to have an alibi, but Hansome knew those could be faked. Lots of things could be faked, which was something that both Hansome and Phillips knew well.

The lawyer drank the last of the milk and stood up, preparing to set the empty container on the nightstand and crawl into bed. He froze in place as the door to his bedroom unexpectedly open and a masked figure stepped into the room, a handgun held in his right hand. Hansome dropped the glass, jumping when it shattered on the floor.

"Merle Hansome," The Peregrine said, taking several steps closer to the nervous attorney. "Men call me The Peregrine. Have you heard of me?"

"Yes," Hansome answered, his voice barely above a whisper. "You�re that vigilante who kills people."

"I kill bad people. Are you a bad person, Mr. Hansome?"

"No."

"Then you have nothing to fear from me." The Peregrine made a show of lowering his weapon and placing it inside a holster under his right arm. "I want to talk to you about the death of Claudia Schuller."

"I have sex with men." Hansome�s hands flew up over his mouth and his eyes opened wide. He wasn�t sure why he�d said that. It was like his nervousness had somehow caused him to admit his deepest secret in the hopes that it would somehow protect him.

The Peregrine seemed unfazed by the comment. "I know. And I know that you�re not the killer. I�m not here to investigate you. I want you to help me investigate them."

Hansome relaxed somewhat though it wasn�t in his nature to completely be at ease. "Are you talking about my business partners? Because if you are, the man you need to be looking at is Robert Phillips. I�d bet my last dollar that it�s him."

"I don�t think it is � at the very least, if he is involved, he wasn�t involved in all the murders. He didn�t move to the city until after the first girl was killed."

Hansome looked confused. "First girl? Are you saying that Schuller wasn�t the first to die?" As he asked these questions, Hansome seemed to grow even more nervous. He seemed on the verge of sharing something with The Peregrine but was obviously hesitant to do so.

The Peregrine nodded. "That�s exactly what I�m saying. What I want from you is access to their personal information � you handle all of them as clients, don�t you?"

"Well, Mr. Melvin has his own lawyers so I only assist with the Sovereign affairs that he has. But for the others, yes." Hansome�s tongue darted out, touching his upper lip. "But there�s a matter of confidentiality. I can�t just open their records to you."

"Not even if innocent women are dying?" Hansome hesitated and the Peregrine continued, "And what about if a prolonged investigation ends up revealing a lot of your dirty laundry? We wouldn�t want that, would we?"

Hansome exhaled. "All right. What do you need to know?"

The Peregrine was about to provide a list of files that he wanted to see when the distinctive sound of footsteps moving stealthily up the stairs gave him pause. The Peregrine knew from the look on Hansome�s face that the man wasn�t expecting any company. He held a finger to his lips, indicating that Hansome should remain quiet, and drew his pistol once more.

The gun looked like a common automatic but it was actually proof of The Peregrine�s remarkable scientific acumen. The chamber had been specially modified so that it could hold dozens of miniaturized bullets. It was whispered in the Underworld that The Peregrine�s guns never ran out of bullets but that wasn�t quite true � it was simply that each gun held so many shells that few ever saw him reload. The small size of the bullets said nothing about their power, however. Each one packed enough punch to send a large man tumbling backward, meaning that he rarely needed to hit a target more than once.

The Peregrine crept to the bedroom door and grasped the handle with his free hand. He yanked it open and came face-to-face with a man dressed all in black, save for a crimson mask. The mask was carved of wood and painted with vibrant red. It was a devil�s leering face, a tongue jutting forth in a mockery of laughter. In the man�s right hand was a long, curving dagger that gleamed in the light. The terrible sight was made all the more terrifying because of the man�s great size: he was a veritable bear.

The Peregrine squeezed the trigger of his automatic, but the first blast went awry as the devil-faced man swung out with his knife, forcing The Peregrine to back away from the blow. The Peregrine was well versed in fighting but the man he was now facing was quick and quite skilled in the use of a blade. The Peregrine found himself ducking under another swipe of the blade and then hurrying to throw up an arm to prevent another. The sharp edge of the knife dug through flesh on the underside of The Peregrine�s arm and blood began to drip onto the floor.

The Peregrine responded with a karate chop to the stranger�s throat, causing the other man to squawk in pain and stagger back. The Peregrine then grabbed hold of the arm that held the dagger, applying enough pressure to the wrist that the masked man dropped the knife.

"Who are you?" The Peregrine demanded, driving an elbow into the side of the man�s head.

"Call me Devil Face," the man answered, using a peculiar high-pitched voice that was obviously disguised. "And I�m not here for you. I just want the faggoty man. Give him to me and I�ll let you live."

The Peregrine slammed a knee into Devil Face�s midsection and for a moment, he thought he�d won the day. The masked man appeared to nearly lose his footing and The Peregrine made the mistake of letting up on his assault. It was then that Devil Face reached down to his right ankle and freed a second blade that he�d hidden in his sock. Devil Face sprang upward, stabbing The Peregrine in the left shoulder. Devil Face pushed on, using all his strength to slam the vigilante against the wall. The back of The Peregrine�s head cracked against the wall and his vision began to swim. He slid to the floor, his eyes fluttering. Over the throbbing in his head, he heard the sounds of a scuffle, followed by a piercing cry. The Peregrine struggled to rise but he found himself unable to find his footing. He lost consciousness, the last sight he saw being that of Devil Face dragging Hansome�s limp form out of the room.

Morgan Watts was a former confidence man, a lackey for more crime bosses than he cared to remember. But his life had taken a change for the better when he�d met Lazarus Gray. He�d realized that the emptiness he�d carried inside him for so long was his sense of morality. It was an empty cup, waiting to be filled. And Lazarus Gray soaked it to overflowing.

Morgan was seated in the briefing room of Assistance Unlimited�s expansive headquarters. It was an old hotel that had been retrofitted to their purposes but some of the rooms retained the feeling of impermanence, as if no one was truly meant to call this place home. It was a building designed for fleeting visits.

Lazarus was standing in front of a flannel board upon which photos of the various suspects, along with the known victims of the killer, had been hung. "Morgan, you said that Phillips was at home at the time of the killing?"

"Apparently so. He returned home after the party at Groseclose�s and found a car in front of his house with a flat tire. He helped get them patched up � he even produced the name and address of the man he helped."

"And you checked into that?"

"I did. Mr. Thomas Murphy of 1455 Hancock Street. Verifies everything Phillips said. Maybe a little too perfectly, to be honest. They both remember every detail in a way that doesn�t usually happen."

Eun Jiwon, the young Korean member of the team, was seated between Morgan and Samantha. He leaned forward, staring hard at his employer�s impassive face. "I know Mr. Phillips, Chief. He�s a Grade A goon, just dressed up in a business suit. I don�t know if he could kill a woman, but I know he�s got a temper."

"You mean you knew him before all this began?" Samantha asked.

Eun nodded. He was a handsome young man but after an awkward initial series of flirtations, Samantha had realized they weren�t really attracted to each other. In fact, Eun didn�t care for women sexually at all, though it took some time before he trusted everyone enough to confirm that. "When I first moved to Sovereign with my parents, they had to jump through hoops to get Phillips to sign off on the permits they needed to build their store. It was pretty obvious that he didn�t care for immigrants."

Lazarus turned to the board, staring at the images of the men there: Groseclose, Davies, Melvin, Phillips, and Hansome were all men highly respected in their fields. He knew that sometimes respectability was just a veneer that hid a sociopath�s true nature, but he found it hard to believe any of these men were capable enough to have pulled off a series of murders like this. In the case of Phillips, he hadn�t even moved to the city when the first of them began.

"Whoever did this is skilled with a blade," he said aloud, tapping his chin. "They also know enough about police work to know how to cover their tracks, washing away all the evidence that might implicate them."

"I don�t think it�s Hansome," Morgan stated. "The guy�s way too nervous to have pulled this off. The guy folds under the least bit of pressure."

"Funny thing to say about a lawyer," Eun said. "They lie for a living, don�t they?"

"Not the good ones," Lazarus replied. "But I agree with Morgan. I think we can cross Hansome off our list, at least in terms of being the killer. Nothing in his background suggests that he would be capable of this. Having said that, he might be still be involved as an accomplice somehow."

"Well," Samantha said, leaning forward with interest, "if it�s not Hansome and it�s not Phillips � since he wasn�t in town when the murders began � that only leaves a couple of them as suspects, especially if you still believe that Max Davies isn�t one of them. We�re just left with Melvin and Groseclose."

"That�s not quite true."

All eyes turned to the doorway, where The Peregrine stood, his body outlined in silhouette. He moved into view, his blood splattered form drawing a gasp from Samantha.

Eun moved around the table, intending to attack this intruder, but Morgan caught him by the sleeve. "Hold off," the older man warned. "I think I�ve heard of this guy."

The Peregrine nodded at Morgan before fixing his eyes on Lazarus. "Sorry for not knocking on my way in."

"How did you get past our locks and security devices?"

"What can I say? I�m amazing." The Peregrine flashed a crooked grin. "But I wanted to let you know that Hansome is missing. He was just kidnapped out from under my nose by a masked man calling himself Devil Face. I�m willing to bet that Devil Face is our killer� and he was far too fit and youthful seeming to be either Groseclose or Melvin."

"Then we�re back to square one," Samantha said with an air of disappointment.

"You�re forgetting about Smithson," The Peregrine answered, sliding his weary form into one of the spare seats at the table. "Young and fit, if I recall correctly. Maybe he�s doing the dirty work on his employer�s behalf. Or maybe he�s flying solo on this."

"Do you have any proof that it�s Smithson?" Samantha inquired.

"No. He�s just the only one not on that list." The Peregrine noticed that Eun remained tense and he gave what he hoped would be a reassuring smile. "I�m not your enemy. I�m here for the same reasons you are: to help the innocent."

Eun sneered. "Only you choose to do it while hiding behind a mask."

"I have reasons for hiding my identity."

"All I know," Eun continued, "is that you�re wanted on charges of murder, assault, and resisting arrest." The young Korean glanced at Lazarus, his entire body tense. "Tell me why we aren�t arresting him, Lazarus. Please."

The Peregrine struck quickly, spinning the legs of his chair so that his body was now turned toward Eun. He drove the heel of one shoe hard into the younger man�s stomach but Eun recovered quickly, having been trained in the martial arts since childhood. He grabbed hold of The Peregrine�s ankle and drove an elbow down hard against it, nearly shattering the delicate bones.

The Peregrine gritted his teeth but continued with his planned moves. He had anticipated Eun�s reaction and knew that it was a gamble to expose his ankle to such an attack, but it left Eun completely exposed up top. The Peregrine reached into an inner pocket sewn into his jacket and produced a small capsule that snapped open between his fingers. A fine brown mist exploded into the air and The Peregrine leaned forward, blowing the mist straight into Eun�s face. The Korean dropped his hold on the vigilante�s foot and began coughing, his eyes watering so badly that he was virtually blind.

By now, Morgan and Samantha were on their feet. Morgan was reaching for his gun when The Peregrine held up a hand. "I didn�t come here to fight. I can give Eun an antidote for the dust I just sprayed him with � or he can wait an hour for it to clear up on its own. I just wanted to show you that there are multiple reasons for not trying to bring me in."

Lazarus spoke up, having made no move to interfere during this entire exchange. Though the battle had taken only a few seconds, Lazarus was fast enough that he could have intervened. "I assume reason number one is that you�re innocent of all charges."

"I only kill people who deserve it and who leave me no other choice." The Peregrine retrieved a second capsule and shoved it into Eun�s hand. "Crack this open and wave it under your eyes and nose," he directed.

Morgan, still glaring daggers at The Peregrine, released his hold on his pistol, leaving it holstered at his waist. "And what�s reason number two?"

"I would have thought that would have been obvious," The Peregrine stated, a bit of arrogance creeping into his voice. "None of you are capable of taking me down."

Samantha crossed her arms over her chest. "If you�re so high-and-mighty, why do you need us at all, then? Is this Devil Face really so tough that you can�t handle him yourself?"

The Peregrine hesitated before lowering his shoulders. "I�m sorry. None of this is coming out the way I�d intended. I really do try to help people: that�s why I�m here in Sovereign and that�s why I went to visit Hansome earlier tonight. I wanted access to the private files he held on his clients. Like all of you, I assumed that one of the men whose names were in that packet was the murderer. But I don�t think that�s the case any longer. I can�t guarantee that it�s Smithson, but I think it bears looking into."

Eun was blinking away tears now, having regained the ability to see after using the second capsule. "In a fair fight, I think I could take you," he muttered.

"Maybe," The Peregrine said, trying to make a peace offering. "But I�d rather not find out."

Lazarus stepped around the table, his eyes flicking toward the clock mounted on the wall. It was late, nearing midnight, but he didn�t feel they had any time to waste. "Morgan, I want you and Eun to pay a visit to Mr. Melvin. I�m fairly certain that he�ll keep his secretary close to him at all times so they should be in adjoining rooms at their hotel. Samantha, please remain here to coordinate our efforts."

The Peregrine caught a nod from Lazarus, who was heading toward the door. Falling into step alongside the enigmatic founder of Assistance Unlimited, The Peregrine lowered his voice and asked, "Where are we going?"

Lazarus led the masked man toward an elevator at the end of the hall. "Our first stop will be the medical lab downstairs. I don�t think your wounds warrant calling in a physician but you need some patching up. It should take no more than five minutes. I hate to waste even that amount of time, but we may need to be at full strength."

"And then?"

"Then we�re going to look for Mr. Hansome."

"I don�t have any clue where Devil Face has taken him!" The Peregrine muttered. "What are you proposing? That we drive around town in hopes of spotting them somewhere?"

"Not quite," Lazarus answered. "All of my aides regularly ingest a radioactive isotope that allows me to easily trace them should they vanish while performing their duties. It�s quite harmless. Earlier today, I took action to ensure that all of the men on our list of suspects ingested those same isotopes."

The Peregrine stopped just inside the fully stocked medical lab. "Including me?"

"Including you."

"How in the world-?"

"It was different for each of you � but for you, I slipped it into the scotch you poured back at your hotel room. You barely sipped any of it, but you still managed to swallow enough for me to trace you."

The Peregrine�s lips spread into a grin. "I just realized you just tricked me into revealing my identity."

"It wasn�t hard to figure out," Lazarus said in all honesty, leading The Peregrine toward a chair. After the vigilante was seated and Lazarus had begun treating his injuries, he continued, "The authorities in Boston have nearly uncovered your dual identities on several occasions. You�ve been so sloppy that it almost seems like you want to be caught."

The Peregrine winced as Lazarus dabbed antiseptic into his knife wound. "Yeah, I�ve been told that before. It�s just so hard to balance a personal life with my private war� Considering how my father was killed because his enemies knew who he was, I thought it was important to keep my own identity secret. But when push has come to shove, I�ve erred on the side of catching bad guys, even when it meant that my identity might be compromised."

"I understand about the nature of dual lives," Lazarus admitted. He was normally a taciturn individual, but he sensed that Max Davies was someone who could fully understand the difficulties he faced. "Not long ago, I was a man named Richard Winthrop. I was a member of an international cartel with their fingers in every occult conspiracy you can think of. When I turned against them, I was killed� but here in Sovereign City, I was reborn. Now I find elements of my old life encroaching upon the new with disturbing regularity."

The Peregrine seemed to sense that he was being honored with this show of familiarity. He reached out and squeezed the other man�s arm. "Maybe we can help each other. You can give me advice when it looks like I�m skating on thin ice with my secret identity� and I can offer you assistance in dealing with those old friends of yours."

Lazarus pulled away, reaching under a counter where he retrieved a gauze bandage. "I just might take you up on that."

"I don�t like him," Eun said for about the fifteenth time. He glanced over at Morgan, who was leading the way down the hotel lobby. They had used their status as members of Assistance Unlimited to convince the desk clerk downstairs to tell them what rooms belonged to Mr. Melvin and his secretary. To Morgan�s surprise, Melvin wasn�t in the penthouse � rather, he was in one of the rooms on the fourth floor. Smithson, as Lazarus had surmised, was in an adjoining suite.

Morgan reached up and rubbed his fingertips over the slicked pencil-thin moustache that covered his upper lip. "Eun, give it a rest. The Peregrine is on our side."

"He�s wanted for murder."

"I�ve killed more men than I care to remember," Morgan pointed out. "Most of them were back in my criminal days but it doesn�t change the fact that I�m a murderer. At least The Peregrine supposedly hasn�t offed anyone who didn�t deserve it."

Eun didn�t bother responding but from the sour look on his face, there was no need to. Morgan knew he was smarting more from his hurt pride than anything else. Hoping that the younger man would get past his distrust of The Peregrine, Morgan stopped outside Melvin�s door and gave it a hard rap.

There was movement from within and the door opened and revealed Melvin, dressed in a smoking jacket and slippers. He seemed alert, despite the hour. "Yes?" he asked.

"My name�s Morgan Watts. I work for Assistance Unlimited. You�ve heard of us?"

"Of course. Who hasn�t?" Understanding seemed to dawn in the old man�s eyes and he stepped back, allowing them entrance. "This is about that horrible murder, isn�t it? The Schuller girl?"

Morgan stepped inside but Eun hung back. "My friend�s going to speak to your secretary. He�s next door?"

"Yes. But I can access his room with our adjoining door."

"We�d rather speak to each of you separately." Morgan nodded at Eun, who moved toward Smithson�s room. Morgan took the door from Melvin and shut it. "You�re right about us being here about the murder. I wanted to ask you how well you know Mr. Smithson."

"I�d trust him with my life. If you�re going to accuse him of some wrongdoing, you�re just going to end up with egg on your face. He�s morally upstanding." Melvin took several steps toward a table where a half empty bottle of vodka sat next to an empty glass. Morgan had thought he�d detected the smell of alcohol on Melvin�s breath and now he knew his senses had been correct. "Can I get you a drink?" Melvin asked, sitting down with creaking knees.

"Normally, I�d like nothing better, but I can�t afford that right now. I�m working." Morgan sat down across from Melvin, his eyes flicking toward the door that led into the adjoining room. If The Peregrine was correct and Smithson was the murderer, Eun might be in grave danger. At the first sign of danger, Morgan would burst into that room, guns blazing.

"What makes you think that Smithson is the murderer?" Melvin asked, pouring himself a glass. He tilted the bottle until the liquid reached the lip of the glass, threatening to overflow.

"We�re not accusing anyone," Morgan said. "As a matter of fact, Smithson�s name wasn�t one of those found on the dead girl�s body. But most of the others either have alibis or have other elements to their lives that preclude them from being part of the killings."

"Killings?" Melvin asked, his eyes shining. "There�s been more than one?"

"Yes. The press and the local police don�t seem to have noticed, but Schuller wasn�t the first girl to be killed. There have been several over the past few years, mostly prostitutes and the like. We think we�re dealing with a modern day Jack the Ripper."

"Oh, my," Melvin whispered, the color draining from his face.

"What�s wrong?"

Melvin suddenly seemed very fragile. "I think I might know something about all of this, after all�"

Morgan leaned forward with interest. It was at that moment that the sounds of gunfire rang out from Smithson�s apartment.

Eun knew that he was being wrongheaded but he couldn�t bring himself to change his opinion with regards to The Peregrine. The man was trouble with a capital T as far as Eun was concerned. He was still pondering this as Morgan shut the door to Melvin�s room and Eun began to knock on Smithson�s. There was no answer and Eun repeated the procedure, applying a bit more force to the knocking this time.

When Smithson still did not appear, Eun reached down and tried the doorknob. It was locked and Eun pondered for a moment what to do. He could enter Melvin�s room and try to cross over through the adjoining door, but he didn�t want to expose the old man to any danger if Smithson was the killer.

According to the clerk, both Smithson and Melvin were supposedly in their rooms but only one of them was answering � and while it would have made sense for the elderly Melvin to be hard of hearing, it defied logic for Smithson to be the same.

Eun took a step back and raised his right foot. He drove it hard against the door, repeating the blow twice more before the barrier cracked and swung open. Eun heard movement from within and he hurried inside, saying, "Mr. Smithson? Don�t be alarmed."

The first thing that Eun noticed was that the room was illuminated by a single lamp, which sat next to the bed. Lying on top of the sheets was Smithson, but any hopes that he might shed some light on the murders was smashed when Eun spotted the pool of crimson that lay beneath him. A bullet hole over his heart was the source from which the blood had flowed and Eun knew immediately that Smithson was dead and had been for at least an hour.

A rustle of fabric drew Eun�s attention away from the body. Standing in front of the open sliding glass door that led to the balcony was a dark figure. Eun remembered The Peregrine�s description of Devil Face and quickly realized that this man did not match that look at all. This man wore a white shirt covered by a gray vest, black tie, and an ebony jacket. Over all of this was slung a dark opera-style cape that was clasped about his neck. With black slacks and shoes, as well as leather gloves and a top hat, the figure looked like he might beon his way to a fancy ball. But the presence of an automatic in his right hand and a large domino-style mask made it quite clear to Eun that the man�s presence was a sinister one.

"I know how this looks," the man began, "but it�s not quite what you think."

Eun grinned and sprang toward the man, eager to redeem his earlier defeat against The Peregrine. He moved so quickly that the well-dressed man was unprepared for the first blow that came: Eun caught him flat on the side of the skull with a closed fist. The younger Korean followed with a knee to the man�s midsection that knocked the air from the man�s lungs.

Eun felt a sense of elation, realizing that he might be about to singlehandedly solve the entire case. If this man was the killer, then perhaps he was working with Devil Face � or, just as likely, The Peregrine had made up the whole thing and was working with this man.

The well-dressed man recovered faster than Eun would have thought possible. He raised his pistol and squeezed off two quick shots. The first whistled past the Korean�s ear and passed through the sheet rock behind him. The second stuck Eun in the left thigh and caused him to grit his teeth in pain.

Eun had taken bullets before and refused to give in. He was about to strike back when the masked man pistol-whipped him, cracking Eun�s lip and sending a spray of blood against the wall.

"I�m not the killer," the masked man said. "I came here for the same reasons you did: to talk to that man. I found him like that just minutes before you showed up."

"I don�t believe you," Eun hissed. "I�ve had it up to here with masked men telling me lies."

"Not sure what you�re talking about, friend, but I�m called The Dark Gentleman. And I�m working to clean up the cesspool that Sovereign City�s become."

At that moment, the adjoining door to Melvin�s room burst open. Morgan sprinted through, throwing himself into a rolling ball. He popped up next to the bed and, with barely a glance at the corpse in the bed, opened fire at The Dark Gentleman.

The masked man cried out in surprise, hurling himself backwards. He landed against the balcony railing and quickly twisted so that his legs were up and over it. He dropped out of sight, leaving Eun and Morgan to rush forward in hopes of catching a glimpse of his fate.

Down below, the city streets were empty. It was a three-story drop but there was no sign of The Dark Gentleman.

Morgan took note of his friend�s bleeding shoulder and mouth. "What the hell happened?"

"That guy in the mask that you just shot at � he calls himself The Dark Gentleman. I�m starting to think that those names on that girl�s body weren�t suspects� they were targets. Hansome missing, Melvin�s secretary killed� maybe these men know something and that�s why they�re being bumped off now."

"Something that�s tied to the murders of all those girls?"

Eun shrugged. He turned back toward the bed, where Melvin was now standing. The old man was staring at the body of his confidante. Melvin looked horrified and one liver-spotted hand came up to cover his own mouth, as if he wanted to stifle a scream.

"Mr. Melvin, we�re going to summon the police," Eun said. "Can you remain here and wait for them?"

Numbly, Melvin nodded. He turned away from the corpse and seemed to regain some of his strength now that he wasn�t faced with his secretary�s body. "He was a good man, almost like a son to me."

Morgan caught Eun by the sleeve. "How about making that call and then staying here with Melvin? I can go looking for that guy without you."

"No," Eun answered firmly. "I�m not being left behind."

"You�re hurt."

"I�m fine."

Morgan sighed and nodded. He was pretty sure that The Dark Gentleman hadn�t left them any kind of trail worth mentioning, but they had to make sure. He was about to step out into the hall with Eun when he remembered that Melvin had been about to say something to him before the shooting began. He hesitated a moment, gesturing for Eun to go on without him.

"Mr. Melvin� You were about to tell me that you might know something about these murders?"

Melvin didn�t bother looking at Morgan. He simply shook his head and whispered, "Nothing. I have nothing to say."

"So that�s how he did it!" Samantha sat back with a satisfied grin on her face. Ever since The Peregrine had interrupted their meeting, she�d wondered how he�d managed to bypass the security at Assistance Unlimited headquarters. It had taken a bit of digging through the archival footage to figure out what security flaw the masked man had uncovered but now she had it: he�d broken into one of the abandoned storefronts facing the old hotel that Assistance Unlimited used as their base. From there, he�d managed to travel through one of the underground tunnels that linked every building on the street. Everyone knew that Lazarus Gray had bought the entire block for purposes of secrecy but very few knew that they were all linked together, essentially transforming it into one giant headquarters.

Samantha still wasn�t sure how The Peregrine had known about the underground tunnels, but at least she knew how he�d accessed the main building: he�d come in through the basement.

She was still marveling over the panache needed to break into their headquarters when Morgan and Eun entered the room. Eun looked pale, his shirtless body covered by bandages.

Samantha moved to fuss over his wounds but Eun waved her away and sat down heavily in a chair. "There�s another masked man in town," he said. "Calls himself The Dark Gentleman."

Samantha straightened up. "That�s odd. Sovereign�s had its share of vigilantes in recent years, but most of them don�t bother hiding their identities."

"Now we have two," Eun muttered, obviously still smarting from his wounded pride.

Morgan allowed the two younger members of the team to continue the discussion while he stepped into an adjacent room. He picked through some of the papers they�d accumulated on the various suspects. Something was bothering him, but he wasn�t sure what� Obviously Melvin had thought about sharing something with them and then changed his mind. Was there some connection between Smithson and Hansome that they hadn�t picked up on? And if so, how did it all play into the horrific murders of those girls?

He tapped a photo of Hansome and whispered, "I hope Lazarus can find you, shyster. I�m betting you have the answers we need."

The duo of Lazarus Gray and The Peregrine had traced the radioactive isotopes in Hansome�s bloodstream, following the trail to a small rental property on the outskirts of town. A sign in the front yard indicated that the A-frame house was for rent by the owner and Lazarus noted that the painted phone number on the sign had peeled away, leaving only the first couple of digits.

"This is a front," The Peregrine said, standing outside the front door. There were no streetlights around and the interior of the house was dark, so both men held sterling silver penlights.

"What do you mean?"

"Nobody�s really trying to rent this property. If they were, they would have repaired that sign. And the house itself is filthy� smells like something�s died here. Recently."

Lazarus knew what his friend was implying and he moved forward, taking up position to the right of the door. The Peregrine took the left and they nodded at each other before Lazarus took a few steps back and lowered his shoulder. He crashed against the door, using all his impressive strength to shatter the barrier.

The interior was cloaked in an almost stygian darkness and the odor of death was far thicker than before. The Peregrine followed Lazarus into the house, using his penlight to locate a small lamp. He turned it on, bathing the living room in a dull yellow glow. What they saw was stomach churning and, even for men as used to the unusual as these two were, shocking.

There were human, dog, and cat skeletons nailed to the blood-red wallpaper, many of them arranged in obscene positions. In between the bones, the wallpaper had been covered with odd drawings of horned demons, acts of bestiality, and crying faces.

The skeleton of a human male, its bones held together by twine, dangled from the center of the ceiling. Large wings forged of leather and wood had been attached to the skeleton�s back and goat horns had been glued to the top of the skull.

A long table was set against the back wall. It was waist-high and carved from some form of shiny blood-colored wood. Its bowed legs were carved to resemble great serpents, their fanged mouths reached upward. At each of the four corners was a black candle resting in bronze holder. The holders were shaped like skulls, the lower the jaw of each protruding out to hold the candle in place. A stone basin lay in the center of the table and as Lazarus approached it, he recognized the presence of human bones and dried blood.

The scene was disturbingly familiar to Lazarus. In his old life, he�d witnessed things like this as a member of The Illuminati. It had been horrors like this that had led him to turn against his friends, eventually bringing about his death and resurrection in Sovereign City.

The Peregrine allowed Lazarus to investigate the strange table and its horrible contents. He opened the other doors, finding a bedroom that looked like it had never been touched; a kitchen that was so filthy that it nearly caused him to retch; and a bathroom that contained a very nasty surprise.

"Lazarus," The Peregrine said, placing the back of a gloved hand over his nose and mouth. "I found Hansome."

Lazarus appeared almost instantly, looking past the masked man at the lumps of flesh that lay in the tub. The soapy water was filled with bleach, cleaning away much-needed evidence. Hansome�s body had been neatly cut up into six pieces: his head, his torso, his arms, and his legs. Several large buckets filled with the man�s blood lay outside the tub and plastic tubing rested on the counter top next to the sink.

"There goes any doubts about Hansome�s kidnapper being related to the girls� killer," The Peregrine murmured. "Guess he�s branching out to the other gender."

Lazarus knelt beside the tub, holding a handkerchief over his nose. His eyes watered from the strong bleach fumes that hung in the air, but he wanted to check on a suspicion he had. He grabbed hold of Hansome�s head and lifted it from the bath, carrying it out of the room and setting it gently atop the bloodstained table in the living room. While The Peregrine watched in mounting curiosity, Lazarus pulled up a chair and sat facing the dead man�s terror-stricken face. After pulling out a magnifying glass, he leaned so close to the decapitated head that their noses were almost touching.

"What are you doing?" The Peregrine asked, no longer able to contain himself.

"Are you familiar with the work of Willy K�hne, professor of physiology at Heidelberg?"

The Peregrine searched his memory and slowly nodded, beginning to see where his companion was going with this. "He studied retinal chemistry, didn�t he?"

"Yes. He theorized that the retina behaves not only like a photographic plate but like an entire photographic workshop, in which the artist continually renews the plate by laying on new light-sensitive material, while simultaneously erasing the old image. By using the pigment epithelium, which bleaches in the light, he set out to prove that it might be possible to take a picture with the living eye. He called the process optography and its resulting products optograms."

The Peregrine found himself getting wrapped up in the science behind the matter. "And the rabbit�s eyes held an image of the bars," he whispered to himself.

K�hne had created a famous optogram by using an albino rabbit, whose head had been fastened so that it faced a barred window. From this position the rabbit could only see out onto a cloudy sky. The rabbit�s head had been alternately covered with a cloth, to allow its eyes to acclimate to the dark, and then exposed to bright light. After this, the rabbit was decapitated, with its eye removed and cut open along the equator. The rear half of the eyeball, containing the retina, was laid in a solution of alum to set. The next day, K�hne had seen printed upon the retina a picture of the window with the clear pattern of its bars. This had been repeated in other experiments, leading K�hne to state that the final image viewed before death would be fixed forever, like a photo. If death were to occur at a moment when the pupils of the eyes were hugely dilated � because of fear, anger, surprise, or some other strong emotion � the retinal optograms of the deceased would be even more detailed.

"Do you see anything," The Peregrine asked.

Lazarus nodded, his eyes staring into those of the dead man. Reflected there, as clear as day, was the face of the devil.

Theodore Groseclose couldn�t sleep. He was sitting in his study, a glass of warm milk in his hand, unable to stop thinking about the events of the past few days. He�d liked Claudia. She was smart and pretty, the sort of combination he always enjoyed having around the office. It was hard for him to visualize her body having been violated in the ways he�d heard. What sort of monster could do that? Who could snuff out a beautiful girl�s light like that?

Groseclose looked up as he heard the unmistakable sound of the front door being unlocked. He set down his milk and moved to the foyer, his eyes widening as his 24-year old son Michael entered the house, looking disheveled. Michael was blessed with his mother�s good looks and his father�s intellect� but there were whispers that he was squandering both since dropping out of college two years before. Since then, he�d lurked in the shadows, vanishing for days on end with no explanation.

"What the hell are you doing?" his father demanded, all the frustrations of the past few days finding a new target. "I swear to heaven, I don�t think you care what the community thinks, do you?"

Michael�s jaw clenched, as if he were barely able to hold back his own anger. "I was out on business."

"At this hour of the night? I don�t believe you. I believe you were out drinking and whoring, that�s what I think!"

Michael shook his head and stepped around his father. "I�m going to bed."

"The hell you are!" Theodore bellowed, grabbing hold of his son�s arm and clenching it tight. "I�ve had enough of you. You�re my son! And that means people are going to look at you differently than if you were some ragamuffin off the street!"

Michael whirled around, bringing his face close to his father�s. Had Theodore not been so wrapped up in his anger, he would have realized that there was not a trace of alcohol on his son�s breath. "You know what, Dad? I�ve had enough of you, too. You sit in your office and you print your stories but what do you really know about life in this city? Have you walked its streets? Have you seen all the joy and happiness sucked out of its people because they can�t believe in the system anymore? Do you know that there are dozens of mobs out there, all vying for power? And that the men in charge turn a blind eye to it because they�re too scared or to crooked to do what�s right?" Michael yanked his arm free. "Oh, but you would know about that last part, wouldn�t you? You�re the one helping make sure good people are being put out on the street so your buddies can build their high-rises."

Theodore�s mouth moved silently for a moment before his anger gave him new voice. "How dare you?"

"I know a lot more about this town than you give me credit for. And I�m actually doing something about it." Michael spun on his heels and jogged upstairs, regretting the anger he�d shown his father, but refusing to back down. He slammed the door to his room shut and then sagged down onto his bed. He needed to get his own place if he wanted to really make a difference. Sneaking in and out of his own house was just one more headache that he didn�t need.

Michael had trained for months, preparing to take to the streets as The Dark Gentleman� but what had happened on his first night out? He�d run into not one, but two members of Assistance Unlimited, both of whom now thought he was a murderer. He�d meant to question Smithson about the men whose names were linked to Claudia�s death� but whoever had killed him had come and gone before Michael had arrived.

Claudia had been a lovely girl and one that would have normally attracted Michael�s intense interest. But he�d been so single-minded as of late that he�d never bothered approaching her.

Michael stood up quickly and began pacing. He wanted to do something, wanted to prove that the past few weeks hadn�t been some pointless lark. He could help Sovereign City, he was sure of it.

He suddenly realized that he needed to clear the air with Assistance Unlimited. Right now, they were probably wasting valuable time hunting him down when they could be going after the real killer.

Michael forced himself to stop. He had to get some rest. In the morning, he could go down to Robeson Avenue and make peace with them. Maybe they�d even agree to let him assist them in the case.

A smile suddenly blossomed on his lips. Michael realized he was beginning to feel like a kid hoping to fall in with the popular crowd at school. He needed to rest before he did anything reckless � more reckless than putting on a top hat and mask.

Devil Face stared in the mirror, marveling at the beauty of his visage. This was the true expression of his inner self, come to life in the form of a wooden depiction of Satan himself. The leering mouth, the jutting tongue, the crimson tint� They were everything that he so desperately wanted to be. They were far truer than the face he wore every day to the office, where he pretended to be so much less than he truly was.

It had been years since he�d moved to Sovereign City, this cesspool of immorality. The place had called to him and he�d recognized it as home. He had felt it in his blood and in the dark little corner of his mind where the Devil resided. At first, he�d tried to be good, tried to silence the voices that screamed for bloody murder� and he�d almost succeeded. But then he�d seen those whores, all made up like pretty dollies � they�d forced him to do what he�d done. He�d punished them for their sins, for using their breasts and their buttocks to tantalize and tease. Who knew how many boys they�d corrupted with their offers of love? He�d killed them and washed them, not to remove traces of his identity as the police had assumed: but to cleanse them of their filth.

Claudia had been different than the rest and she was the cause of all of Devil Face�s current problems. She�d been so sweet and desirable, nothing like those tarts he�d killed in the past. Claudia was a good girl. She�d sobbed to him in the end, begging him to spare her. She claimed she was a virgin and Devil Face almost believed her � he�d wanted so badly to believe her. But he knew she�d gone to Max�s apartment and they�d done things� dirty things that caused butterflies to swim about in his stomach when he imagined them. This made him realize that even if she wasn�t a whore yet, she was well on her way. So he�d punished her for the sins she�d yet to commit.

And then had come the guilt, so quick that it had surprised him. He�d borrowed Max�s address book during a brief visit to the other man�s hotel room. At the time, he�d merely wanted to find out more about Davies, who had seemed to be more than he claimed to be. Davies had this way of looking at everyone as if he could see through him or her. It was almost as if he was looking at Devil�s Face�s real features, which had been both exciting and infuriating.

After Claudia�s death, though, the idea of leaving the address book on her body had seemed the proper way to assuage his guilt. A part of him wanted the world to know who he really was and this dangerous game of leaving clues to his identity served his need for self-punishment.

But after her body had been discovered, the Devil had taken hold and a sense of self-preservation had emerged. Hansome knew his real identity, which meant he�d had to die. Hansome�s sexual interests had forced Devil Face to give him the same treatment he usually reserved for the whores: after all, Hansome probably would have offered his body if he�d thought it would have saved him. It was sickening, what Hansome would have done if given the chance�.

Smithson was another problem. Too smart for his own good, Smithson had discovered Devil Face�s secret and actually sought to blackmail him. Devil Face didn�t think that Melvin knew the truth, but he couldn�t be sure. Smithson and the old man were very close. Since Smithson wasn�t a sex fiend like Hansome or the girls, Devil Face had killed him like an animal. It was the first time he�d ever killed without using the precious ritual � the ceremonial cutting, the washing of the flesh, reducing the body to chunks of flesh.

Devil Face turned away from the mirror, reaching up to peel away his mask. He hated to look at the face he showed the world on a regular basis. It was so ugly, with every crease and line containing a litany of sins. It was only when his true face was on display that he felt truly confident.

After placing the devil mask in a box under his bed, he headed downstairs to have a drink. Killing those men hadn�t left him as ecstatic as cleansing the whores usually did. Normally he would have been humming a song to himself and feeling like he was on top of the world: instead, he felt tense and paranoid. How long before Smithson�s body was discovered? Would they find the gun he�d discarded in the trash bin outside the hotel? Could it be linked back to him? And what about Hansome? His body was still in one of Devil Face�s many safe houses but with Assistance Unlimited on the prowl, who could say that it wouldn�t be discovered?

He paused as the phone in the study began to ring. He looked up at the clock and realized that it was nearly dawn. Where had the night gone?

Walking quickly to pluck up the receiver, the killer took a moment to make sure he used the proper voice. His day-to-day voice was deeper than the one he used when wearing the Devil Face mask. "Hello?"

Theodore Groseclose sounded on edge. "You need to come over to my house. Immediately."

"What�s wrong?" he asked, though he knew what the answer would be. How could he not?

"Smithson and Hansome� they�re both dead. Melvin�s already here and I�m about to call Max. We could all be in danger � what if the killer�s planning to kill everyone associated with Schuller?"

"Calm down," he soothed. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and paused. His hair and beard looked unkempt and his eyes were wild. He didn�t look much like Robert Phillips at the moment: he�d have to clean himself up before he went over to Groseclose�s. "I�ll be there soon."

Devil Face hung up the phone and reached up to smooth his hair. Had Smithson told Melvin about what he�d learned? If he had, then the old man would have to die, too� and then there was Groseclose. The man was a journalist and he might start digging on his own. If he found out that Phillips had moved to Sovereign and adopted a new identity for himself with Hansome�s help, then all the dirty secrets might come out.

Phillips hurriedly bathed and dressed in fresh clothing, creeping down the stairs to the locked basement door before leaving for Groseclose�s. He entered the finished basement, the coppery smell of blood filling his nostrils as he opened the door. Inside were 13 canisters filled with the blood of the women he�d killed over the years, dating back to before he�d come to Sovereign and adopted his current identity. He needed to kill only one more and then he�d be ready to leave this prison of flesh behind.

"Something troubles you, my love?"

The soft, purring voice of Lady Death echoed in his head. The temperature seemed to drop twenty degrees or more and his breath suddenly became visible in tiny cloudbursts that escaped his mouth. He turned to face the woman of his dreams, the only one who was pure in all things. He was the only one who could see her, the only one who heard her voice.

She was a few inches over five feet in height, her lush curves shifting beneath a hooded black robe. Her skin was a milky white that always reminded him of moonlight on water. Her ruby red lips and the lower half of her face was all that could be seen beneath the darkness of her hood, but he had seen her naked beauty before. The upper half of her skull was exposed, her eyes nothing more than two deep sockets of shadow that seemed to suck him right into their depths.

"My enemies are closing in on us," Devil Face answered, using the higher-pitched voice he normally saved for when he was masked. "I�m worried that they might stop me before I�ve accomplished my goal."

Lady Death reached out and touched his face, her icy grip making him shiver. "I am proud of you. You have done so much in my name� and now you only have to find one more whore, one more woman who needs to have her sins washed away. And then you�ll be mine, in body and soul."

Devil Face leaned into her hand, his face lighting up like an excited puppy�s. "I can go find another girl tonight!"

"No. You�ll know her when you see her. There are only certain ones who fit our needs."

Lady Death pulled away, vanishing into the dark shadows of the basement. Devil Face reached after her, desperate to touch her skin once more but there was nothing there any longer.

Max Davies woke up at six in the morning and immediately indulged in his daily ritual. He had a cup of warm tea followed by an hour-long session of yoga and Tai chi chuan. When he was done with his exercises, he dressed in a casual suit and placed the beak-like mask of The Peregrine over the bridge of his nose. He�d spent the night in the headquarters of Assistance Unlimited, enjoying the comforts that the former hotel offered. He felt a bit silly continuing to hide his identity � Lazarus knew who he was and he trusted the man implicitly. The fact that Lazarus in turn trusted his aides should have meant that Max did as well� but it wasn�t quite that simple. The dark stares The Peregrine continued to receive from Eun were evidence that he wasn�t fully accepted by all.

The Peregrine wandered downstairs to the team�s meeting room and found that everyone else was already there. Morgan and Samantha were seated beside each other, their voices lowered to mere whispers. Morgan said something that Samantha found funny and she coyly covered her mouth as she laughed. Eun was leaning against the wall, looking as surly as ever. Lazarus himself was standing with his hands clasped behind his mask. His impassive face was pointed toward the window and the ray of sunlight that fell upon it accentuated his strong chin.

"Any breaks in the case?" The Peregrine asked, ignoring the way Eun muttered under his breath in response.

Lazarus looked toward him and gave a brief nod. "Perhaps. Groseclose is holding a private meeting at this hour with Phillips and Melvin. I understand they attempted to get in contact with Max Davies, but he�s not at his hotel."

The Peregrine paused, a smile on his lips. "I might be able to reach Max and convince him to go to this little party. It would help us to know what was going on."

"That would be quite useful," Lazarus admitted. "We�ll be waiting to hear back from you."

Michael Groseclose was pulling out of the driveway just as the taxicab carrying Max Davies was coming to a stop in front of the house. Michael and Max locked eyes for a brief second before their travels carried them away from each other and Max was struck once more by how intelligent the young man seemed. They�d only met briefly at the party thrown by the elder Groseclose, but Max had felt a kinship to the youth.

Max was led into the house by a taciturn butler who looked almost as harried as Max felt. He wore on his lapel a miniscule listening device that would allow Lazarus to overhear every word that was said. Max was more impressed with Assistance Unlimited at every turn. The various skills of the aides were impressive enough, but combined with the various inventions and designs of their leader, they had become one of the most formidable organizations on earth.

Max found Groseclose in the sitting room, seated with his head hanging between his knees. Phillips, looking like an angry bear that had been roused from his winter�s nap, was pacing in front of the fireplace. Melvin, looking older and frailer than Max could ever remember, sat pensively on a small couch, his eyes staring off into unfocused space.

Phillips stopped and stared, his mouth clamped into a thin line beneath his beard. "Davies. We were beginning to wonder if Devil Face had gotten to you."

"Devil Face?" Max asked, allowing a smile to appear on his face. He looked over at Groseclose, who had leaned back in his chair.

"According to a statement released by Assistance Unlimited, that�s the name of the lunatic who�s committing the murders," Groseclose said.

Max noticed that Melvin looked up sharply, his gaze shifting from Max to Phillips and back again. "You know about Smithson, don�t you?" he asked. "They say Devil Face killed him, too, but he didn�t mutilate him like he did the others."

Max knelt in front of Melvin and took the old man�s hands. "I did hear and I�m sorry. I know he was like a son to you."

"He was. I don�t know how I�m going to continue on without him. I�m not as young as I used to be."

Phillips growled like the animal he resembled. "I�m surprised the police don�t have us all under protection. Two of the men whose names were on that dead girl�s body have been murdered! We�re important people, damn it!"

"Smithson�s name wasn�t in the packet," Max pointed out, drawing another dangerous stare from Phillips.

"I imagine they�re planning to put us under protection," Groseclose said. "But I�m not sure that�s going to be enough. Any man who could have evaded detection for as many years as this Devil Face has� I�m not sure he�s human."

Melvin looked at him in surprise. "What do you mean?"

"Just that there are a lot of awful things in this world and not all of them can be explained by men. I haven�t run half the rumors I�ve heard about Assistance Unlimited and the kinds of jobs they take on: demons, devil-worshipping cults, women who can kill men just by looking at them."

"Poppycock!" Phillips bellowed, though Max thought he saw a shadow of doubt pass over the big man�s face. "Sounds to me like you�ve been paying too much attention to Gray�s own rumor mongering. It�s all an attempt to stir up an air of mystery around the man so he can charge more for his services!"

Max stood up and adjusted the sleeves of his coat. "Do we have any sort of plan here? Or is this meeting simply to share our concerns?"

Melvin struggled to his feet. "I�m leaving town. I only came to finalize our plans for the project and I daresay that they�re on hold for now. I need to return home and inform Smithson�s family about what�s happened. I�m sure they�ve heard the news, but I want to tell them what the papers may not have."

"You can�t leave town," Groseclose said sadly. "The police want us all to stay in Sovereign. We�re persons of interest in the investigation."

Phillips stormed over to the table that sat in front of Groseclose�s chair. He plucked up the morning newspaper and stared at the front page. It showed an old photograph of Lazarus Gray and his aides, under the headline ASSISTANCE UNLIMITED HUNTS �DEVIL FACE� KILLER!

"Glory hounds," Phillips whispered, his eyes lingering on the pretty face of Samantha Grace. His lips moved a few more times, as if he were continuing to mouth words, but none of the other men could hear what he said. He abruptly threw the paper back on the table and stepped back, his eyes wide. "I hope for the best for you gentlemen. I don�t plan to wait for either you or the police to come up with a scheme to protect me, however. I�ll handle that quite well on my own!"

Max put a hand on the big man�s arm, preventing him from walking toward the door. "Don�t go off half-cocked, Phillips. The last thing any of us need to do is go out and get ourselves into trouble."

Phillips glared at Max, pulling his arm free as he did so. "You will be well advised to never touch me again," he said in a menacing tone.

"I�m just trying to help," Max answered, refusing to wilt before the bigger man�s gaze. As they stared each other down, Max felt a tremor of recognition pass through him. He�d been face-to-face with Phillips before and never realized it. He�d be willing to bet his last dollar that it had been Phillips behind the Devil Face mask when they�d squared off in Hansome�s bedroom. At the same moment that Max realized whom his enemy truly was, Phillips narrowed his own eyes, having come to the same realization.

"I don�t need your help," Phillips hissed. "Just stay out of my way."

Max stared at the man�s back as he exited the room. A moment later and they all heard the loud slam of the front door.

"Just let him be," Groseclose said wearily. "He�s always been an aggressive sort and I imagine all this just makes him feel helpless. Lord knows that�s how I feel."

Max looked over at Melvin, who was still standing in place. "Do you still want to leave?"

Melvin shrugged, looking pained with every breath. "I�d love to but I don�t think it�s very wise, do you? I can�t leave the city and I don�t want to stay at the hotel. Smithson was killed there so I wouldn�t feel safe." He chewed his bottom lip for a moment before saying, "Smithson didn�t like Phillips. Said he was dangerous. He warned me not to be alone with him. But he said something very strange to me just a few hours before he died. I thought about mentioning it to that fellow from Assistance Unlimited but then thought better of it. It sounds so foolish."

"What was it?" Max did his best to avoid looking overeager.

"Smithson said that Phillips was the same kind of man as Jack the Ripper: that he looked at other people, particularly at women, as slabs of meat. Mr. Watts of Assistance Unlimited compared the killer to Jack the Ripper, too. It reminded me of what Smithson had said." Melvin looked at Max and shook his head with a sad smile. "But Phillips is a respected businessman, just like I am. We don�t do such things. Do we?"

Michael Groseclose checked his appearance for the tenth time, ensuring that his top hat was perched just so atop his head and that his gloves were tugged on to a tight fit over his hands. He tried to ignore the feeling that he was a kid playing dress up as he strode toward the front door of Assistance Unlimited. He�d never worn the mask during the daytime hours before and it all felt a little silly in the light of day.

Before he�d reached the door, Eun Jiwon and Morgan Watts were waiting to greet him. Eun stood with fists clenched at his sides and Morgan�s hand drifted close to the interior of his coat, where a gun obviously lay in wait.

The Dark Gentleman raised both hands and came to a halt. "Like I said last night, I�m on your side."

Eun raised his chin. "Then tell us why you�re wearing that mask, Mr. Groseclose."

The Dark Gentleman flinched as if struck. His hands lowered immediately and he didn�t even bother trying to hide his dismay. "You know who I am?"

"We have cameras mounted all over this entire block," Eun explained, triumph in his voice. "While you parked down the street and started changing into your getup, I was looking to see who those licensed plates belonged to. If you�re getting into the vigilante game, you need to learn the ropes."

"Damn." The Dark Gentleman shook his head, unsure how to continue past this point. He was saved the trouble when Morgan relaxed his stance and pulled the door open.

"Come on in, kid. Let�s hear your story."

Samantha Grace had been charged with the task of watching the exterior of the Groseclose home during Max�s meeting with the others. She had sat in a dark sedan across the street, listening in as the others back at Assistance Unlimited were doing. When Phillips had stormed out, she�d been forced to make a decision: should she wait where she was or should she follow the bearlike man who obviously had a temper? In the end, her female intuition told her to stick with Phillips, so she followed him at a distance as he drove back to his house. She drove past as she pulled into his driveway, circling back around the block and finally parking a few hundred feet from the front door. To her surprise, she saw that the entrance was standing wide open and that one of the potted plants just outside the steps had been overturned.

Never one to shy away from danger, Samantha was out of the car in a flash. Given the fact that both Smithson and Hansome were dead, it stood to reason that Phillips might be another target.

The petite blond hurried across the street, a small handgun clutched in her right hand. Her heels clicked on the asphalt and she was glad that she�d worn slacks today. She enjoyed the feeling of femininity that came with skirts and dresses, but they were difficult to fight in.

Samantha crept up the stairs toward the open door. "Mr. Phillips? Are you in there? I�m with Assistance Unlimited."

Stepping inside, Samantha noticed no signs of a struggle. She was about to raise her voice and identify herself again when she heard the creak of the door behind her. She whirled around to see Devil Face lunging for her, blade in hand. That it was Phillips was undeniable � the build and the fact that he still wore the same clothing made that quite clear. But the mask, with its distorted demon�s features, was disconcerting.

Samantha pulled the trigger but her shot went wild, passing harmlessly over Devil Face�s shoulder. Well versed in jujitsu, Samantha was able to quickly evade a swipe of the blade, but her position in the foyer didn�t allow her much room to work with and Devil Face was so large that she was immediately pressed up against the wall.

"I�m going to help you," the killer said, speaking in a voice that was much higher-pitched than the one she had heard Phillips use earlier. "Don�t be afraid."

If the situation hadn�t been so terrifying, Samantha would have laughed. Was he really telling her not to be afraid, even as he was stabbing wildly at her with a sharpened blade? Men were always confusing to her but killers were the worst: the natural inclinations men had toward being dense were amplified by madness.

Samantha jammed her knee into the big man�s crotch and she was rewarded with a squeal of pain from him. She drew up her pistol, pressing the barrel directly against the forehead of the mask but before she could fire, a white-hot pain sliced through her midsection. She felt rapidly spreading warmth spiral out from her stomach and she didn�t have to look down to realize that the killer�s knife was deep inside her.

If I die, I�m taking you with me, she thought, pulling hard on the trigger. Devil Face�s head jerked back as the bullet struck his mask and he staggered back in shock. Samantha reached down and gripped the hilt of the knife, growing dizzy as she began to extract the blade from her stomach. She tossed the weapon down and blinked away the stars that were obscuring her vision. As she sagged to her knees, she realized that Devil Face had recovered and was standing over her. His mask had protected him from the full impact but it had split in two and the pieces now lay on the floor. Phillips was staring at her, a tiny dot of blood between his eyes. His hands continually opened and closed and he was breathing heavily, as if he were teetering on the verge of anger or tears.

"You bitch," he hissed. "You broke my face."

Samantha struggled to lift her gun again, but her strength was fading nearly as quickly as the blood was gushing from her midsection. She heard the sound of Devil Face�s fist rushing through the air toward her head but she never saw it. The blow slammed her skull against the wall and rushed her into blessed darkness.

Phillips watched her for a moment before bending down and almost reverently picking up the broken pieces of his mask. "You have a lot of sins that are going to be washed away," he said, casting his gaze over Samantha�s bloody form. "Just remember: pain is the crucible that will forge the perfect you."

The Dark Gentleman tried to maintain his composure but it was hard to, seated as he was in the headquarters of the famous Assistance Unlimited, with no less than Lazarus Gray himself facing him across the table. Morgan and Eun stood behind their employer, wearing very different expressions. Morgan looked bemused while Eun seemed to grow more annoyed by the minute. The face of Lazarus was so impassive that the Dark Gentleman had no idea what the man was thinking.

"So I�m here because I want to help. I�m not looking to join Assistance Unlimited, but I thought that we could pool our resources."

Eun barked out a laugh. "What resources do you have that we don�t?"

"Enough," Lazarus said and Eun fell silent. "Michael, I admire your desire to help this city. It takes a special kind of man to put his life on the line for strangers. Nevertheless, it�s foolhardy to go into situations like this without proper training and know-how."

"I�ve done the best I could," Michael retorted. "It�s not like there�s a vigilante school where I could enroll."

"Understandable," Lazarus admitted. "But you�re just as likely to get yourself killed or get an innocent killed� if you�ll permit me, I�d be willing to tutor you in various skills."

Michael couldn�t hide the pleasure he felt. "I�d be honored."

Just then, a phone rang in the next room and Morgan went to answer it. He returned in less than a minute. "That was Davies. He says that the meeting�s broken up at Groseclose�s. But get this: Samantha�s gone, car and all. He thinks she went off after Phillips."

Eun glanced up at the clock. "She should have reported in by now."

All of them had overheard Melvin�s words at the meeting and understood what they meant. But the arrival of The Dark Gentleman had prevented them from going off in pursuit of Phillips for questioning.

Now Gray was in motion and it was a terrible thing to behold. His emerald-colored eye shone like a gem while the brown one seemed to smolder. His normally impassive face was now set in grim determination and from the way his jaw continually clenched and released, it was obvious that a cauldron of emotion was now at play. He stood up and began barking orders that were impossible to ignore.

"Morgan, bring the car around. Eun, tell Max to meet us at Phillips� house. Michael, you�re with us."

The Dark Gentleman tried � and failed � to keep from grinning. "I�m ready."

"We�ll see if you are," Gray responded.

The Peregrine didn�t need to be told where to go. He was already in flight before Eun ever made it to the telephone. He borrowed Groseclose�s car without asking and burned rubber through the rain-slicked city streets. Before arriving in Sovereign, Max had heard the jokes about how often it rained here, but he�d quickly learned that it wasn�t hyperbole. It was as if God himself were constantly shedding tears for what had become of Sovereign.

The Peregrine tried to ignore the pounding in his head, but it was strong enough to force him to grit his teeth. His vision was swimming as the world around him intermingled with possible futures. The visions of future crimes that he often saw were far more of a curse than a boon and he�d prayed numerous times to be rid of them. He was forced to pull over to the curb, knowing that he had to ride it out before he could safely continue on his way.

The vision became clearer, obliterating everything else. The Peregrine saw a dark basement, the walls stained with gore. There were barrels or canisters of some kind, filled with the blood of Devil Face�s victims. Samantha was there, her nude body dangling from the ceiling, her arms stretched above her head. Devil Face was preparing his blades but he wasn�t alone, there was another in the shadows, nearly invisible. The Peregrine, who routinely walked along the dark and narrow passage that lay between the sane world and the supernatural, felt like he recognized this figure: he knew she was female and that her stench had been a constant companion to him over the years.

With a shiver that rocked his spine, The Peregrine realized that Lady Death herself was there in that room. She was no simple manifestation of Phillips� madness, this was the dark lady herself, the one who kissed all men at the end of their days.

Lady Death stepped into view, her body hidden by her robes. She moved forward until she dominated The Peregrine�s vision and he could see the curve of her jaw beneath her hood. She opened her mouth and spoke, her voice sounding so seductive that Max nearly forgot what an awful thing she was: he had spent his whole life fighting to avoid her and to save others from her embrace but now, he realized how easy it would be to fall into her arms. "Max," she whispered, "come to me. It�s time."

A rapping on the driver�s side window of his car snapped The Peregrine out of his reverie. He turned his head to see a police officer standing there, obviously having come to check on him. When the officer saw that The Peregrine wore a mask, his eyes widened. Before anything else could happen, The Peregrine floored the accelerator and left a trail of burning rubber in his wake. There was no time to waste now: Samantha Grace was in the presence of Death herself.

Samantha woke up to a world of pain. The joints in her shoulders felt like they were on fire and as her mind cleared, she realized that she was shackled by her wrists to the ceiling of Phillips� basement. Her clothing was gone and her nude body was covered by a fine sheen of sweat. The back of her head throbbed and her mouth felt abnormally dry and tasted tinny. She realized that she had bitten her tongue before falling unconscious and swallowed a good bit of blood.

Devil Face was about ten feet away from her, humming a song to himself as he polished a series of sharp knives and bone saws. His mask had been crudely repaired with glue and even in the dim lighting, Samantha could see that it hadn�t fully dried yet � bubbles of glue glistened in the candlelight. Even as she tested the strength of her bonds, Samantha recognized the tune that Devil Face was humming: Smoke Gets In Your Eyes by Paul Whiteman. She suddenly realized she was never going to like that song ever again.

Devil Face heard the rattling of the chains and glanced over at her. His eyes traveled up her toned legs, past the mound of Venus between her legs, over the flat stomach and pert breasts. He caught his breath, hating the way she made him feel. It was the way of women: to tantalize men with their bodies until the spirit was made weak. He would very much enjoy purifying her. He would cut away all the pieces that teased him and then he would drain her of blood, lovingly washing every bit of her until she was as pure as the driven snow.

"I was worried you weren�t going to wake up," Devil Face purred, moving toward her with a scalpel in his right hand. His foot brushed a bucket filled with tubing and Samantha swallowed hard, not wanting to imagine what it was for. "You�re going to be my thirteenth. That�s a sacred number."

Samantha grimly regarded the killer, refusing to show even the tiniest bit of fear. She trusted that Lazarus and the others would find their way there � and if they didn�t, she�d just have to free herself. "Should I feel honored?"

"Yes. You should."

"Let me go, Phillips. You�re in enough trouble as it is. Hurt me and I can�t promise that they�ll even let the police take you in. Lazarus might just skin you alive."

"I doubt that. I�ve read all about your employer. He�s committed to bringing criminals to justice. He�d actually blame himself if anything happened to me."

"Morgan won�t beat himself up for putting a bullet in your brain," Samantha said with a smile. That, at least, wasn�t a lie. Morgan carried quite a torch for her and she knew that he�d stop at nothing to avenge her.

Devil Face brought the scalpel up to Samantha�s cheek and drew it slowly across the skin, leaving a thin trail of blood. "You�re so beautiful," he whispered. "I wish you weren�t such a whore� but if you weren�t we couldn�t share this moment together, could we? So maybe I�m secretly glad."

Samantha flinched at the onset of new pain, but she said nothing. Her eyes caught the flicker of movement over Devil Face�s shoulder and she gasped. "Is someone else here with us?" she asked, unable to maintain her silence any longer.

Devil Face stepped back, his eyes wide with surprise beneath his mask. "You can see her?"

Samantha peered into the shadows but saw nothing at all. "I thought," she began, but then fell quiet again with a shake of her head. "It was nothing."

Devil Face smiled, momentarily taken aback but now once more in control. No one else had ever seen Lady Death, not even the girls who had rested on the precipice between the world of the living and of the dead. "Well, it�s time we began in earnest. You�re the last one."

"What does that mean?" Samantha asked, as Devil Face turned away from her. He moved over to the tray of sharp implements and set down his scalpel, plucking up one of the bone saws and examining the teeth on the blade.

"Thirteen girls have to die," he said, not caring if she knew his secrets. It was too late for her and he was too close to achieving ultimate power. What could it hurt? "And then Lady Death will cross over onto this plane and she�ll make me her consort."

Samantha heard the dreamy nature of his voice and couldn�t help but think he was absolutely insane. But she�d seen some very strange things as a member of Assistance Unlimited, so she wasn�t prepared to discount it completely.

"I�m not sure why being Death�s lover would be a good thing," she said, hoping to keep Devil Face talking long enough to allow her friends to find them.

"You haven�t felt her touch," Devil Face replied. He turned toward her with the bone saw in hand. As he approached, he bent down and grabbed the bucket filled with tubing and carried it in his other hand. He set the bucket down next to her dangling feet. "But you will soon enough."

Samantha slammed her foot against Devil Face in an attempt to hurt him, but her position didn�t allow her to put any real strength behind the blow and it elicited nothing more than a chuckle from the madman.

"Don�t fight," Devil Face warned. "It will only make things harder for you."

The next moment was one that Samantha would long remember. Devil Face placed the sharp blade against her shoulder, obviously intending to remove her right arm with no anesthetic whatsoever. Just before he began his grisly task, a figure descended the stairs and threw himself at Devil Face�s back. The impact knocked the villain aside, though the blade drug painfully across Samantha�s arm, taking a long stretch of flesh with it.

Devil Face whirled about to see Lazarus Gray facing him, hands balled into fists. Rapidly moving into the room were Morgan, The Dark Gentleman and Eun, all of whom looked at Samantha with concern. Normally, she would have felt embarrassed by her nudity but at the moment she didn�t care � her only desire was to be freed so she could help bring this killer to justice.

It was Morgan who reached her first, steadfastly keeping his eyes off her nakedness. He fumbled with the locks around her wrists, concern for her making him sloppy. "We�ll get that cut sewn up," he said, as if her bleeding arm was important to her.

Eun saw that Morgan was busy with Samantha so he moved to assist his employer, The Dark Gentleman in tow. Devil Face was swinging his blade with great skill, forcing Lazarus to keep his distance.

"There�s too many of them," Devil Face hissed. "Please � help me!"

The Dark Gentleman glanced around, wondering whom it was that Devil Face was talking to.

"He�s talking to the woman over there," Lazarus explained, nodding his head in the direction of Lady Death.

"I don�t see anyone!"

"She�s there. Trust me." Lazarus knew that the woman before them was not human. His past experiences as a member of the Illuminati had included many forays into the supernatural. As such, his mind was open to perceiving things that most people could simply not accept. He could see Lady Death as clearly as Devil Face could � and, truthfully, so could all of his aides, but because of the unreality of the situation, their minds refused to accept what their eyes beheld. Thus, they could not acknowledge it.

Lazarus ducked under a swipe of Devil Face�s blade and struck out with a karate chop that knocked the air from the man�s lungs. Devil Face recovered quickly, however, driving the bone saw against Gray�s neck an instant later. Blood spilled freely, but Lazarus knew that it would look worse than it really was: nothing vital had been struck.

Eun smelled something awful, like an ancient tomb had been thrown open. He gagged and backed away, his eyes widening as half a dozen figures emerged from the shadows, shambling toward them with open sores dotting their skins and portions of white bone protruding. These were the undead, summoned forth by Lady Death and their presence was a sign of just how close Devil Face was to completing his awful ritual. He had loosened the barriers between Death�s realm and those of mortal man� and now her warriors were spilling through.

The first of the zombies uttered a long, guttural moan and reached for Eun. The young Korean batted the hand aside and unleashed a series of kick punches and kicks, most of which had no obvious effect. To Eun, it felt like he was attacking a side of beef. It wasn�t until one of his fists crashed through the thing�s ribs and was momentarily stuck that he realized the full danger he was in: these creatures were not alive and were thus immune to all forms of pain.

Eun looked about and saw that the monsters, all of which were grabbing at his clothes and hair, now surrounded him. One of them dug its claws into the meat of Eun�s arm, tearing into the flesh and spilling blood.

The Dark Gentleman shared Eun�s horror. Unlike the members of Assistance Unlimited, this was his first contact with the supernatural and it was almost enough to shake his sanity. But his sense of self-preservation was strong enough to propel him into combat, shooting several bullets into the torso of the nearest zombie. The impacts caused the undead creature to pause but didn�t deter it from coming onward.

Lazarus knew that things were quickly spiraling out of control and made an effort to end his battle with Devil Face all the faster. He lowered his shoulder and charged like a maddened bull, slamming his bulk into the big man�s chest. They tumbled back until the basement wall halted Devil Face�s progress. Devil Face grunted hard and struck wildly with the bone saw. He repeatedly cut Gray�s face and shoulders, but the leader of Assistance Unlimited ignored the pain and continued pummeling his enemy, breaking ribs, smashing a nose and finally fracturing Devil Face�s hip.

The man who had lived as Robert Phillips these past few years, coasting on a fabricated past until he had achieved a position of power, now knew that his plans were swiftly coming to an end. He sagged to his knees, pain blotting out all rational thought. He saw The Peregrine entering the basement and he wanted to curse the unfairness of it all, but he knew that it was his own fault. He had stuck to a plan for years, killing only those girls who wouldn�t be missed. But Schuller had been an impulse murder and it had led to his downfall.

"Don�t give up hope just yet," Lady Death purred and her voice seeped directly into her follower�s mind. "We may yet have our victory�."

The Peregrine stared about him in amazement. He saw the lovely young Samantha Grace being freed from her chains by Morgan Watts; Eun Jiwon was in danger of being ripped to shreds by a half dozen undead; Lady Death herself stood on the edge of it all, a haunting smile visible from beneath her hood; Devil Face was on the floor, flecks of blood on his lips; and � most surprisingly of all � a villain from his past.

Turning to face him was Doctor York, a madman who had tried to open a portal to Hell back in �33. The Peregrine had defeated him then but the incident had haunted him ever since, mostly because he knew how close he�d come to losing the battle.

The Peregrine drew one of his pistols and took careful aim. If York was involved in all this, then things were even more dangerous than he�d assumed.

Lazarus Gray could scarcely believe what he was seeing. Coming down the stairs in all his arrogant glory was Walther Lunt. Lunt was the German mastermind who had recruited Richard Winthrop into the Illuminati and he had eventually become Winthrop�s greatest foe, overseeing the plot that led to Winthrop�s "death" and "rebirth" as Lazarus Gray. Since then, the two had clashed repeatedly and Gray had come to know Lunt�s ruined visage almost as well as he knew his own. Badly scarred by an acid attack years ago, the right side of Lunt�s face was a mass of burned tissue and the ugliness had seeped into the man�s very soul.

Suddenly things began to fall into place: no doubt Lunt was somehow the puppet master behind all of this, pulling Devil Face�s strings in some elaborate plot to destroy Gray and his allies.

After casting one quick glance at Devil Face to ensure that he was in no shape to reenter the fray, Lazarus threw himself toward his old enemy. He managed to drive Lunt against the wall but the other man responded with more skill than Lazarus remembered him possessing, slipping an arm under Gray�s and using the bigger man�s momentum to toss him to the ground.

Lunt slammed a foot down, narrowly missing Gray�s skull when Lazarus rolled out of the way. Lazarus reached out and grabbed Lunt�s leg, driving a fist just above the German�s kneecap. A loud cracking sound indicated that Lazarus had successfully broken the man�s leg and Lunt quickly joined Lazarus on the floor. They grappled now, hands wrapped around each other�s throat. There was no letting up now and it was obvious to each that this would be their final battle.

The Peregrine was in the fight of his life. In their last meeting, Doctor York had shown none of the skills that he was now displaying. The made scientist had just broken one of The Peregrine�s legs and he was now choking the life from him. The Peregrine had to exert all his will to remain conscious as he fought to take York down. Somewhere in all of this, The Peregrine�s pistol had been knocked from his grip, but the vigilante had more pressing concerns at the moment.

Stars were beginning to appear before The Peregrine�s eyes and he knew that he was literally seconds away from blacking out. He drew his head back and then slammed it forward, smashing his forehead directly into York�s nose. Blood spurted from York�s nostrils and his grip weakened enough for The Peregrine to pull free, gasping for air.

The Peregrine scrambled to his feet, his shoe bumping against something hard on the floor. Looking down, he spotted his pistol and he quickly snatched it up. His broken leg ached horribly and he was unable to put much weight on it but with one good shot, the battle would be over.

York was on his feet again and The Peregrine realized that he had a perfect shot: one bullet to the villain�s head and the city would be safe.

Just as he was about to pull the trigger, he caught a glimpse of Lady Death. The hooded figure was watching the battle with obvious interest and The Peregrine momentarily assumed that it was because she was concerned for York�s survival. But then something occurred to him: where was Lazarus Gray? His aides were here, actively battling the zombies � even poor Samantha, naked as the day she was born. But their erstwhile leader was nowhere to be seen.

The Peregrine suddenly realized that he�d been duped. He twisted, turning the barrel of the gun on Lady Death.

Lazarus had tensed, preparing for a potentially fatal shot to come from Lunt�s gun. Blood was flowing freely from his nose, but Lazarus was ignoring it. If he didn�t time his movements just so, he was about to die� and all that he�d accomplished with Assistance Unlimited was going to come to an end.

Lazarus caught Lunt�s eyes shift to something over his shoulder and he risked a glance, wanting to make sure that Devil Face wasn�t back in the fray. What he saw gave him pause: it was Lady Death, standing half in the shadows. Seeing her brought a bit of clarity to his mind � something about this situation did not feel right. The last time he�d checked on Lunt�s whereabouts, he�d been in Europe� how had he managed to spearhead this plan involving Devil Face? Especially since the murders began before Lunt ever came to Sovereign in pursuit of Lazarus? Had he just taken over a pre-existing plot of some kind? Or was all of this just a bizarre illusion perpetrated by Lady Death?

Narrowing his eyes and focusing all of his amazing willpower allowed Lazarus to suddenly see the truth: the man before him was not Wilhelm Lunt at all. He had been battling The Peregrine for the past several minutes, while his aides fought for their survival.

Just as The Peregrine turned his gun on Lady Death, Lazarus turned and jumped into the middle of the scene involving the zombies and the other members of Assistance Unlimited. Samantha�s body was covered with scratches and bruises. She was fighting bravely, but was unarmed and had been backed into a corner by two of the undead. They tugged at her hair and opened their mouths in an attempt to catch her tender flesh between their teeth. Lazarus unsheathed the dagger he kept on the calf of his left leg and drove the blade through the head of one of the monsters, freeing Samantha to dispatch the other by gripping its skull in her hands and repeatedly driving it into the wall. When the thing�s head had been reduced to a liquid pool of gore, Samantha shoved it away from her.

"Glad to have you back with us," she said with a smile. "I was wondering what was up with you and The Peregrine."

Lazarus removed his jacket and draped it around her shoulders. "A momentary lapse of rationality," he explained.

A gunshot rang out, sounding abnormally loud in the basement. All heads, even those of the remaining zombies, turned to see Lady Death stagger back. The bullet couldn�t really destroy her, but it was enough to ruin her tenuous hold on this plane. Her body shimmered, turning to thin trails of smoky vapor that eventually dissipated. Devil Face cried out, a mournful sound that spoke of dashed hopes and lost love.

The four remaining zombies seemed uncertain now, their hungers no longer enough to drive them forward. They became easy prey for Morgan, The Dark Gentleman, and Eun, the three men using differing means to dispose of the beasts: Morgan and The Dark Gentleman put bullets through their brains while Eun preferred bashing their skulls in.

In the aftermath, the heroes stood silently for a moment, lost in their own thoughts. When enough time had passed for everyone to feel like they�d regained their footing in the real world, it was Lazarus who spoke first. "We should tie up Phillips and call the authorities."

The Peregrine cleared his throat, gun still in hand. "I think we should kill him. He�s dangerous � and the police won�t believe half of the truth, even if we decide to tell them. With his money and clout, he might pay somebody off in this town and get off scot-free. The best way to deal with a rabid dog is to put him down."

"That�s not how I do things," Lazarus retorted. "I know that the justice system in Sovereign is corrupt, but we have to give it a chance to do the right thing."

The Peregrine�s fingers shifted on the gun he held and he knew that no one would be able to stop him if he chose to end Devil Face�s life here and now. But he liked Lazarus and didn�t want to test their friendship in that way. He holstered his weapon and nodded toward The Dark Gentleman. "Decided to add a masked man to your team, Lazarus?"

The Dark Gentleman smiled. "I�m just helping out."

The Peregrine watched as Lazarus used a thin, almost invisible cord to wrap up Devil Face�s hands. The killer was sobbing softly and put up no resistance. The cord was obviously of Gray�s own design and The Peregrine knew there was no chance of the villain escaping, even if he came to his senses and tried.

The members of Assistance Unlimited crowded around one another now, sharing their experiences. The men were anxious to know that Samantha was mostly unharmed and she was grateful that none of them mentioned the fact that they�d seen her naked.

The Peregrine slowly ascended the stairs, preferring not to say goodbye. He had forged some friendships here, but he had other places to be and he had never been good with partings. He noticed that The Dark Gentleman had the same idea. The young man was making his way to the stairs when The Peregrine stepped out onto the first floor and hurried out into the Sovereign City streets.

To The Peregrine�s surprise, the sun had come through the clouds. The darkness still clung to the edges of the sky, but it looked like they were being driven back by the rays of the sun. For a moment, The Peregrine thought he saw the face of Lady Death in one of the clouds but then it was gone, replaced by a beam of light that shot forth, like a spotlight.

For one day at least, the forces of good had won � and in a place like Sovereign, that was something to be proud of.

Igor Witkowski walked through the dimly lit corridors and wondered not for the first time how he had ended up here. A Catholic priest in Nazi Germany was not a good thing to be since the new regime was almost as harsh towards those of the true faith as it was to the Jews. Igor had seen his flock dwindle away to almost nothing, as Nazi pressures were continually ramped up. He had no idea how much worse it could get but he had inklings that it might be time for him to get out of the country.

But that might no longer be an option.

At just eleven o�clock, a persistent banging on his front door had woken Igor up. When he had gone to investigate, he�d come face to face with an S.S. Officer who had identified himself as Jakob Sporrenberg. The officer had �requested� that Igor get dressed and accompany him to the Czech border. Knowing that it would not do to refuse, Igor had hurriedly gotten himself ready for the trip. He had hesitated before applying his clerical collar but had finally done so, preferring to go forth into the unknown with God on his side.

The journey had been mostly in silence and Igor had found himself wedged into the backseat of a military vehicle with Sporrenberg at his side. Two men, a driver and an armed guard, sat in the front.

Not knowing what else to do, Igor bided his time by mentally reciting several of his favorite passages from the Bible.

When they had finally reached their destination, Sporrenberg had exited the car first, holding open the door for Igor. He had gestured towards the squat, ugly little building that sat against a large mountain and said, �Welcome to Der Riese, Father.�

Igor had unconsciously crossed himself as he had stared at the grim fa�ade. �Why am I here?� he had asked but Sporrenberg had merely gestured for him to approach the unmarked metal door that led into the facility.

Now they were moving deep into the bowels of the place. Igor had quickly realized that the exterior was mostly just for show: the real base was carved into the side of the mountain and was accessible only by a large circular doorway guarded by two members of the S.S.

Their journey came to an end when they passed through two large swinging doors, with the words Die Glocke stenciled on their fronts. Inside the room were a number of scientists, dressed in dark suits, white lab coats and goggles. One of them glanced up as Sporrenberg stepped in and hurried over to hand both the S.S. officer and Igor identical sets of goggles.

Igor stared at them for a moment before pulling them into place over his eyes. There was energy in the room that made the fillings in his teeth ache and the hair on his arms stand on end. He cast a wary glance at the men around him and noticed that some of them did not look well at all. Their faces bore open sores and there was lethargy to them that Igor recognized: they were in their final days. He had performed last rites on too many men and women to not recognize the approach of death.

His gaze finally fell upon an object that rested in the center of the room. It was the obvious source of the energy that Igor sensed and everyone in the room kept looking towards it with anxious expressions.

Igor now knew why the room had been labeled the way it was. Die Glocke meant �The Bell� in his tongue and this thing did closely resemble one of those, though of extreme size and mass. It appeared to be comprised of some hard, heavy metal and Igor guessed that it was approximately 9 feet wide and 12 to 15 feet high.

Sporrenberg cleared his throat. He stood very stiffly and Igor wondered if this handsome young man was capable of relaxing. �Father, I would like to introduce you to Walther Lunt. He is a special advisor on the project.�

The man who stepped up was so ugly that Igor had to physically restrain himself from flinching. The right side of Lunt�s face was a ruined mess of scarred tissue and his eyes were narrow slits that seemed to radiate anger. �Ah, the Man of God. I�m pleased you were able to make it.� The sarcasm in Lunt�s voice froze the blood in Igor�s veins.

�Why am I here?� he asked again. This time he received an answer.

Lunt gestured towards The Bell. �We want your professional opinion, of course. You are qualified to speak on the subjects of Heaven and Hell?�

�I� Well, yes. I believe so.�

�Good. Then pay attention. You�ll know when your participation is required.� Lunt turned away then and Igor thought he caught an expression of distaste pass quickly over Sporrenberg�s face. The S.S. officer didn�t care for Lunt; that much was obvious.

A scientist approached The Bell, a tall thin thermos flask held tightly in one outstretched hand. The flask itself seemed to have an exterior casing of lead and the words �Xerum 525� could be seen on its surface. The flask was opened quite carefully and a violet mercury-like substance was poured into a small opening on the side of The Bell.

Lunt began speaking, using a voice that Igor recognized well: it was the tones of a teacher, carefully explaining some difficult concept to someone of lesser intelligence. �Inside The Bell are two counter-rotating cylinders. The Xerum 525 is mixed together with thorium and beryllium peroxides, as well as Leichtmetall.�

�What is Light Metal?� Igor asked, wincing as The Bell began to hum. It felt like his fillings were about to be yanked from his teeth and he covered his mouth with a hand, lest he cry out in pain.

�An invention of German genius, as is Xerum 525. The specifics are beyond your ability to comprehend. Simply know this: What you are witnessing is quite unique� and quite astonishing.�

Igor didn�t need to be told that. His eyes widened as The Bell began to visibly shake and a strange ringing sound filled the air. One of the sickly-looking scientists began to cry and Igor turned to see that one of the man�s sores had burst open, spilling out greenish-yellow pus that dripped thickly down his face.

�Look at the top,� Lunt whispered and Igor found his gaze dragged to a small concave mirror mounted atop The Bell. In the dim lighting, Igor hadn�t noticed it before. As The Bell vibrated, images began to appear in the mirror. Strangely, they were not reflections of the room around it� it seemed to show men and women from some other place, watching them through the conduit of the mirror.

�They are about to appear,� Lunt said to himself and Igor felt Sporrenberg�s grip on his arm, pulling him close.

�Do not address them,� the S.S. officer stated.

Before Igor could ask what they were talking about, a group of four appeared in the air before them. They shimmered like they were reflections cast in water but they seemed substantial enough. The man in the front was dressed like a ringmaster and had a long drooping moustache. He held a top hat in one hand. Standing to his left was a woman who wore the briefest of swimsuits. A python was curled about her torso, its head resting against her shoulder. The serpent�s forked tongue danced to and fro, tasting the air. To the ringmaster�s right was a man dressed in only a loincloth. His entire body had been shaved and covered with intricate tattoos. A series of painful-looking piercings on his back were clear signs that he spent at part of his time suspended from them. The fourth member of the group was hidden beneath voluminous robes and the gender was indeterminate.

The ringmaster bowed and put on his hat. In flawless German, he said, �Again you call us forth. But still you haven�t flung this doorway open enough for us to come out. The Circus is waiting, gentlemen. All the pleasures and magicks you can stand, all for such a very small price.�

The ringing from The Bell had reached a painful pitch by now and Igor put a hand over each ear.

Lunt looked at the priest. �Tell us, Man of God� What do you make of them?�

Igor stared at the peculiar foursome, his eyes lingering over the exquisite curves of the snake woman. He swallowed hard, knowing without a doubt that he was beholding something not of this world. �They�re from the Devil. I�m sure of it. They reek of sin.�

Sporrenberg drew a pistol and Igor froze, wondering what was about to happen. �Herr Lunt?� the officer asked.

Igor whirled about, looking to Lunt. The scarred man was facing the ringmaster and smiling. �You said the last step was a blood offering from a saved soul, correct?�

The ringmaster nodded slowly and the woman�s serpent companion seemed to embrace her all the tighter, eliciting a moan of lust from her full lips. Her tongue appeared, sliding wantonly across her mouth.

Lunt gave the briefest of motions with his head and Igor felt the barrel of Sporrenberg�s gun press against his temple.

�Father, protect me,� Igor whispered.

And then Igor Witkowski was on his way to meet God.

�Your name is Bob Benton. Repeat it for me.�

The handsome man with the dark hair sat with perfect posture. He stared at the man in the white coat without much expression. The room in which he sat was completely black save for a single high-powered bulb that was directed at the handsome man�s face. He squinted at the light, trying to make out facial details of the man in the coat but it was impossible. �Bob Benton.�

�That�s right. You were a pharmacist who invented a compound you called formic ethers. This gave you superhuman strength and dense flesh.�

�Formic ethers,� Bob said, as if testing out the words. �Did I invent it on purpose or by accident?�

�On purpose. You�d been experimenting with them for a while before they started working. You breathe in the ethers and they give you your powers. After a time, they start to fade and you have to ingest more.�

�Is it addictive?�

The scientist paused, looking off to the side. Bob heard someone murmur something and the scientist said, �No. They�re perfectly fine.�

�That�s good.�

�You have a girlfriend named Jean Starr but you don�t see her as often as you�d like. It�s okay, though. You love each other and you write her letters all the time. Sometimes you even get letters back.�

�Why don�t we see each other?�

�She�s secretary to the mayor and that�s a really important job. But not as important as what you do.�

�My pharmacy work?�

�Not just that. Once you got your powers, you became a hero. You smash mob rings, battle enemies of America and help those in need.�

Bob smiled. �I like that. It�s important to do what you can to help people.�

The scientist nodded. �That�s right! It�s part of the American Way. Now, Bob, your battle is sometimes a lonely one but you have a partner � a young boy. His name is Tim Roland and he sometimes accompanies you on missions.�

�Seems dangerous and more than a little irresponsible.�

�Tim has the same powers that you do. And when you go on missions, both of you protect your identities by wearing uniforms like this.� The scientist pushed a box towards Bob, who rested it on his lap. Inside was a black uniform with skull and crossbones displayed prominently on the chest. A domino-style mask, cape, gloves and boots completed the gaudy attire. �You call yourself The Black Terror. With Tim, you�re known as The Terror Twins.�

�What name does Tim use on his own?�

The scientist hesitated. �Uh� he just goes by Tim.�

Bob frowned. �How can he expect to protect his identity like that? The domino mask won�t hide much and he�s using his own name?�

�That�s not important right now,� the scientist snapped.

�He�s my friend. It�s very important. And where are his parents during all of this?�

The scientist rubbed his eyes in a tired move and reached up to flip off the light, leaving the room in total darkness. �We�re done for now, Bob. Put on your suit and wait for me to return.�

Bob said nothing, watching as the scientist left the room in a hurry. Then he stood up and stripped off the hospital-style shirt and pants he�d been wearing. He pulled on the garb of The Black Terror. He looked around the room as best he could but he could barely even see the hand in front of his face. The only light remaining was whatever squeezed in through the bottom of the door.

He sat back down and adopted a pensive expression. �I wonder where Tim is now,� he said aloud.

�I think he�s almost ready,� General Arbogast said. He was standing just outside the briefing room, a thick cigar clutched between his lips. �I want to see him in the field.�

The scientist, Kenneth Butler, ran a hand through thinning hair. �I don�t know. He�s getting the basic story down but he�s begun asking difficult questions. The story just doesn�t hold up. Why in the hell did you authorize the writers to include a kid in his adventures? It makes no sense. It�s one thing to eventually hire an actress to play his girlfriend but what are we going to do � dress up a midget and send him out into the field with The Black Terror?�

Arbogast slapped Butler on the shoulder. �Use your noodle, Doc. We�ve given him the makings of a family. He�s got Jean, the virtuous bombshell. And he�s got Tim, a surrogate son. Those things give him something to fight for. When he�s up against the wall, he�s gonna remember those two are waiting for him at home and he�s not gonna give up.�

Butler nodded, trying to make it seem like he was in agreement. In the end, it wasn�t his decision to make anyway. Project: Black Terror was going ahead with or without him. He�d heard some of the plans they had for �Bob Benton� and it made his head spin. It wasn�t enough to send him out into the field to take out whomever they deemed unacceptable� they planned to turn The Black Terror into a bonafide star, a hero that the public could embrace because he was sanctioned, unlike The Black Bat, The Crimson Mask or The Darkling. Those were dangerous types, who might incite the good people of America to take up their own arms in the name of justice.

And that couldn�t be allowed to happen.

Eventually, there would be Black Terror brand cigarettes, Black Terror magazines and maybe even a Black Terror radio program.

�God help the guilty,� Butler whispered, remembering one of the catch phrases that had been implanted into Bob Benton�s psyche. �God help the guilty.�

Jakob Sporrenberg adjusted his tie and then lit another cigarette. The nightclub was busy this evening and the sordid dive was living up to its reputation as one of Sovereign�s sleaziest. Gus Murray, a former Prohibition gangster who had gone somewhat legit, owned The Playpen. He still peddled in sin but it was all legal, if more than a bit immoral. On three different stages, women of various ages and hair color were grinding in time to jazz music. Cigarette girls with too much skin exposed moved through the almost all male crowd. Several of them sported bottoms that were probably black-and-blue after all the pinching that had gone on.

Sporrenberg watched all of this with a calculating eye. He�d abandoned his position in the German military four months prior and he was still having difficulty getting used to not only being a civilian but also a resident of the United States. In some ways, things were the same no matter where you were in the world. But there were other parts of life that were quite different.

�Jakob, do you see her?�

The feminine voice that filled Sporrenberg�s left ear was inaudible to everyone else in the club. It came through a miniaturized radio that was virtually invisible to the naked eye. The voice belonged to Samantha Grace, the lovely blonde who was a key figure within Assistance Unlimited, the same group to which Sporrenberg now belonged.

From where Sporrenberg was sitting, he had a good view of one of the few women in the club who weren�t paid employees: Diana Crumb, a lovely woman with dark hair and cruel eyes. She wore an emerald dress that left her shoulders bare and hugged every one of her ample curves. She was seated with a number of men that Sporrenberg recognized: mob bosses and killers, all. She held their attention like she was a flame and they were the moths. Every now and then she�d laugh flirtatiously and allow one of her hands to linger just a little too long on a shoulder here or a leg there.

�I see her. She�s quite the Queen Bee tonight.�

�Don�t be fooled,� Samantha warned. �She�s killed at least six men and probably more.�

Sporrenberg glanced towards the entrance. He spotted Morgan Watts, hovering near the back. Ordinarily, this was the sort of job that Morgan would have taken point on but he was getting too well known these days. All the old members of Assistance Unlimited were familiar faces to those in the underworld, meaning that Morgan could get by with being a face in the crowd but he couldn�t be called upon for what Sporrenberg was about to do.

During the Die Glocke affair, both Sporrenberg and Abby Cross had joined the team. Since they were relative unknowns in Sovereign, few people currently connected them to Assistance Unlimited.

Sporrenberg stood up and adjusted his tie. Moving through the dense crowd, he finally made it to Diana Crumb�s table, where he elicited a curious look from her and angry stares from the men who accompanied her.

�Do I know you?� Crumb asked, a smile touching her red lips. A hulking brute seated to her left began clenching and unclenching a fist.

�You don�t. But I�d certainly like to know you. I was wondering if you�d like to dance?�

Crumb raised an eyebrow, looking out at the crowded club. There were tables and booths everywhere but nothing that passed for a dance floor. �I don�t see anyone else dancing.�

�We�ll be setting a new trend.� Sporrenberg offered her a hand and his very best smile. �My name�s Jakob.�

After a moment�s hesitation, Crumb took Jakob�s hand and rose from the booth, forcing one of the men with her to stand up so she could exit. The man favored Sporrenberg with a deadly glare.

�My name�s Diana. And your boldness intrigues me.�

�You haven�t seen anything yet,� Sporrenberg replied. �My boldness has few limits.�

�Do tell.�

The duo winded their way through the crowd, closing in on the band stage. The song that was currently being played was obviously aimed at the dancing girls, allowing them to swing their hips in time to the music. Sporrenberg, however, flashed a ten-dollar bill at the bandleader and leaned over to make his request. Seconds later, a significantly slower tune was being played, allowing Sporrenberg to pull his dark-haired companion close.

Diana was still watching him with interest and she leaned in, lettering her cheek brush his as she whispered in his ear. �So what is it you want, Jakob?�

�I wanted to get you alone. I have something to tell you.�

Diana pulled back just enough so that she could look into his eyes. �And what is that?�

�A week ago you met with a man named David McIness. He�s known as the Titan. He wanted you to introduce him to some of your friends to see if they might have need of him. I�ve heard that McIness killed over forty people in the past three years. I want to find him.�

Now suspicion was writ large over Diana�s face. She began to yank herself free of his grasp but he held her tightly, casting a glance over at the table, where her suitors were watching. �I wouldn�t do that if I were you. In about sixty seconds, every thug at that table of yours is going to get busted.�

�What are you talking about?�

�My full name�s Jakob Sporrenberg. I work with Assistance Unlimited. Because you�re so popular, you�re out tonight with a who�s who of the criminal underworld. Lazarus Gray�s going to round them up all at once. But you�re going to be safe and sound � as long as you promise to help us find McIness.�

Diana�s answer to the proposal was to drive a knee hard into Sporrenberg�s groin. Before the German could respond, she delivered a roundhouse punch that would have made most men groan with envy. The blow knocked Sporrenberg back into someone�s table, spilling all their drinks onto the floor.

Crumb bolted towards the door, even as Morgan and Samantha converged on the table full of gangsters. Eun Jiwon, the deadly young Korean who was still recovering from a severe back injury, was pushing his way towards the crooks when he saw Crumb�s movements. He reached up and touched the communicator in his own ear and warned, �Chief, she�s headed outside! Do you have her?�

The voice of Lazarus Gray was lost in the rising din. The gangsters were now engaged in a quickly spreading battle with Morgan and Samantha, while Sporrenberg was trying to defend himself from a group of men who were angry over their lost drinks.

Eun cursed under his breath and jumped onto the back of one of the men who was threatening Samantha. He jammed a hard chop onto the man�s neck and then sprang out of the way as the big man hit the ground, every nerve in his body rendered helpless by the expertly placed blow.

The slender Samantha Grace was nearly Eun�s equal in martial arts and the winsome beauty had dispatched two men twice her size already.

Morgan, meanwhile, favored the old-fashioned style of brawling: he was trading punches with �Lucky� Fontoon before finally doing the criminal in with an uppercut.

Inside the club, at least, it looked like things were going roughly according to plan. Eun just hoped that Lazarus and Abby were capable of handling things outside.

Within seconds of Eun�s warning, the nightclub door exploded outward. Diana Crumb wasn�t alone in trying to beat a hasty retreat from the scene, as nearly a dozen others were following in her wake. Most of the people here were either wanted for some offense or another, or simply worried that their presence would be revealed to loved ones or coworkers.

Abby Cross stood across the street, dressed in a blue skirt and white blouse. Her high heels were spread wide apart and she lowered her head, whispering words taught to her by her momma years before. The young witch had been raised in a Druidic household before going out on her own and she was the mistress of forces both great and terrifying. �Ontros omegan filligri! Amanturi sleepum, envelopum!� she hissed, her normally feminine voice lowering with every syllable. As she said the final word, she sounded almost animalistic, reflecting the dark powers she was summoning.

A dark gray cloud rose up around her feet, spreading out in long tendrils to envelop the crowd emerging from the nightclub. Immediately all who felt its chilly embrace began coughing and stumbling to their knees. The entire group, save for Crumb, were soon lying on the streets. It was a powerful narcotic spell and it took a lot out of her, leaving her very weak. Originally, she�d offered to unleash the spell within the confines of the club but magic was always an uncertain thing: one small mistake in the casting and the spell could have proved fatal to those caught in its grip.

Crumb saw the cloud at her heels but pressed on, kicking off her shoes so that she could run faster. She cursed herself for having worn such a figure-hugging dress. It restricted her movements so much that she felt like she was moving through molasses.

And then, suddenly right in front of her, was Lazarus Gray. He wore a vest and tie over a white shirt, khaki slacks and black shoes that were so polished they seemed to gleam in the moonlight. His brown hair was laced with so much silver that it made him appear older than he truly was. But it was his face, with its almost emotionless expression and the mismatched eyes that made her stop in her tracks. One of his eyes was a glittering emerald, the other a dull brown. Both were fixed upon her and when he spoke, she was found herself unable to look away from.

�Miss Crumb, you were given the opportunity to help us in an investigation. From your actions, I assume you�ve made the mistake of turning it down.�

Crumb swallowed hard. �What�s all this to you?� she asked. �I thought you only got involved when somebody hired you.�

�That�s not always the case but in this one, it is. David McIness�s former wife hired us. She rightfully fears for her life.�

�And why are you arresting my friends?�

Something akin to amusement flashed so quickly over Gray�s face that Crumb wasn�t sure if it had truly been there at all. �They�re just a bonus.�

Crumb regain control of her senses to the point where she realized the danger she was in. She drew back her fist, intending to take out Lazarus the way she had Sporrenberg, but Assistance Unlimited�s leader caught her punch in midair. He applied just enough pressure to make her gasp in pain, slowly driving her to her knees.

�I�ll ask you just once, Miss Crumb. Where is McIness?�

Barely able to speak through the pain, Crumb managed to whisper, �He was staying at the Harbor Inn. Room 13. Please� let me go.�

Lazarus released his grip on her hand but he knelt down and grabbed her by the shoulders, forcing her to look at him once more. �If I were half as evil as you are, you wouldn�t be going to prison. Do you understand? I�d leave you in the gutter the way you did your victims.�

�Prison doesn�t scare me,� she replied, still possessing enough bravado to put up a strong front. �You know how it works in Sovereign � the jailhouse door is a revolving one. All it takes is me greasing the palm of the right person and I�m a free girl.�

�If I were you, I wouldn�t hope for that. Because I�ll be watching you. And the moment you�re out on the streets again, I�ll send her after you.�

Crumb looked over at Abby, who was now drifting through the fallen club goers. She looked thin and pale but there was still smoke drifting around her hands and waist. �What is she?�

�She�s a witch. Remember how I said that I wouldn�t kill you?�

�Yes�.�

�I never said anything about her.�

As if on cue, Abby glanced up, her eyes filled with black. They looked like two pools of ink, with only the barest light held within.

Crumb screamed.

Morgan Watts flanked Lazarus Gray as they approached room 13. The former confidence man still had a hitch in his step from his injuries incurred in England though he tried hard to hide any signs of discomfort. As the oldest member of Assistance Unlimited, Morgan was constantly trying to prove himself the equal of his counterparts. But if things didn�t improve, he was going to have to take Doctor Hancock�s advice: accept more deskwork and go out into the field less.

Lazarus stopped just short of the door and looked both ways in the narrow hallway. He�d convinced the hotel�s owners to secretly evacuate the building over the past half hour, calling each room one by one and inviting all parties to come down to the lobby.

�Are you all right?� Lazarus asked, staring hard at Morgan�s wan expression.

�Fine,� Morgan replied but upon seeing the steady gaze of his employer, he relented and admitted, �I�m just a bit winded, Chief. Takes me awhile to get my breath back, that�s all.�

�We only went up one flight of stairs.�

�I know.�

Lazarus nodded, looking back to the numerals posted on the door. �I�m not going to press you, Morgan. You know your body better than I do. But if the choice comes down between your long-term health and your pride, I hope you choose wisely.�

Before Morgan could respond, Lazarus gave several raps on the door. There was no answer and Lazarus stepped back and delivered a powerful kick that knocked the door right off its hinges. He strode inside, fists clenched, while Morgan followed at his heels, pistol in hand.

What they discovered was enough to give both men pause. The room was illuminated by a single candle, which was set in the center of the floor. It was nearly burnt out and thick piles of melted wax surrounded it. On the walls were scrawled dozens of words, written in what appeared to be either red paint or blood.

The man they had come to find � David McIness � was nowhere to be seen, despite the fact that the hotel clerk had assured them that he�d entered his room around three that afternoon and had never left.

But the room was far from unoccupied.

An old woman sat lotus-style on the floor. Her long white hair hung down in straggly clumps and her clothing was threadbare. She smelled like she hadn�t bathed in weeks and when she looked up at Lazarus, one of her eyes was milky white.

Morgan felt like he�d taken a punch to the gut. Something about this woman unnerved him and he�d seen things that would have turned most men into screaming little boys. �Lazarus, maybe we should�.�

The old woman cackled, pointing a thin finger at Lazarus. The digit trembled badly but it was clear enough what she was doing. �You. I knew you would come.� She turned her blind gaze upon Morgan. �Death clings to this man like a funeral shroud. All who follow him shall know suffering. They will die alone and unloved. That will be the fate of Lazarus Gray and his Assistance Unlimited.�

Morgan looked over at Lazarus and he saw something very peculiar about his employer�s expression. It shifted slightly as the old woman spoke and Morgan got the distinct impression that Lazarus had heard these words before.

Lazarus moved forward and grabbed hold of the woman�s arm. He pulled her to her feet rather roughly and brought his face close to hers. The odor of unwashed flesh wafted off of her but Lazarus gave no sign of having noticed it. �I�m going to ask you once more: Where is McIness?�

�You want him so badly, don�t you?� the old woman purred. �Have you told your friends why?�

�He�s a murderer,� Lazarus retorted. �That�s reason enough.�

�Perhaps. But it�s not the truth, now is it?�

�Morgan, hand me some cuffs, please.�

A few seconds later and the old woman was having her hands drawn behind her back and bound together. She still looked amused by the situation.

�You�re coming down to Assistance Unlimited headquarters until you decide you�re ready to talk,� Lazarus informed her.

�Nothing could make me happier,� she said, throwing her head back and laughing. �The longer you and I get to be together, the better!�

Morgan trailed along after Lazarus, ignoring the curious stares of those in the lobby. After the woman had been put into the back seat of their car, Morgan cleared his throat and asked, �What�s really going on, Chief?�

Lazarus paused and Morgan knew that there had been a time, not that long ago, when his employer would have given a terse response that answered nothing. Lazarus had once held his cards so close to the vest that the members of Assistance Unlimited were frequently blindsided. But he had begun to genuinely try and open up more over the last year and all of them appreciated it. �I know him. I first met him several years ago, in my other life.�

Morgan didn�t need any explanation about that. Lazarus Gray had been born Richard Winthrop, a wealthy young man with a knack for the supernatural. His brilliance had led him into The Illuminati, a secretive society that sought nothing less than world domination. Though Winthrop had remained with them for several years, his innate goodness had eventually led to him rebelling against them. This had led to an assassination attempt by The Illuminati � one that had proved successful, in a strange sense. Richard Winthrop had been left for dead but he�d awakened, with only a dim memory of who he really was. He�d adopted a new identity and began a new life in Sovereign City� but eventually his old life had come roaring back with a vengeance. Now he had more than a smattering of his memories back but they were vague things, as if they had happened in a dream or to someone else.

�Was he a member of The Illuminati?� Morgan asked.

�No. He was a byproduct of an American experiment. He was one of the early failures, actually. The government was trying to create soldiers that were faster and stronger than normal humans. Eventually, they hoped to have an army of these super-soldiers. But their first plan was to produce an officially sanctioned hero, someone who could be used as a counterpoint to the vigilantes that were springing up around the country.�

�So they were experimenting on American citizens?� Morgan asked, a chill going down his spine. He�d seen human experimentation being carried out by rogue scientists and he�d heard rumors that the Germans were beginning to do the same� but he�d never conceived that the USA could be involved in such.

�Not quite. A man named Kenneth Butler came up with a way to grow artificial beings. They were grown in tubes and shaped to look human, though their flesh was far more dense than normal and they had redundant systems: two hearts, three lungs, that sort of thing.�

Morgan looked into the back of the car, where the old witch had fallen silent. Her chin was touching her chest and she looked like she was either sleeping or meditating. �Okay. So McIness was one of these fake people?�

Lazarus motioned for Morgan to get in the car and the two of them were silent until they were on the move again, slowly maneuvering into the busy Sovereign traffic.

�Yes. Most of the early creations were unstable. They were filled with information on how to be human but they didn�t really understand it. Most of them were overly violent, almost murderous. Each of those was euthanized � except for McIness, who managed to escape. He�s stronger, faster and deadlier than any man has a right to be: and he has no moral compunctions about inflicting harm on others.�

�How do you know about all this?�

�Before I left The Illuminati, McIness approached us. How he managed to find the group, I don�t know, but it goes to show how capable he is. The Illuminati protects their privacy to extreme lengths. I met him during his indoctrination process, when he told all about his past and was examined to see if he could be trusted as a field agent.�

�And?�

�He went rogue. Killed three members of The Illuminati and vanished.�

Morgan stared out the passenger side window, his eyes widening as they passed Daye Tower, the skyscraper that Doc Daye called home. Daye was Sovereign�s most prominent citizen and even though Lazarus carried a lot of weight with the community, it was nothing compared to the adulation that Daye received. �One more thing, Chief. That crazy stuff the witch was saying. You�d heard that before, hadn�t you?�

�Yes,� Lazarus admitted. �But I�m going to do everything in my power to ensure that it doesn�t come true.�

�Can I ask where you heard it before?�

Lazarus paused, his innate urge to internalize his problems warring with his decision to open up to his friends. �I�ve been having dreams, ever since we got back from Britain. At first, I thought they were related to how close we cut it during the Die Glocke affair but now I know it�s something else. A premonition of my own or a warning sent by someone else, I don�t know.�

Morgan saw Lazarus, normally so unflappable, turn his head towards him. He saw something terribly unfamiliar in his employer�s eyes and it filled him dread. It was fear, radiating clearly from his eyes.

�None of us came into this business because we thought it would be safe,� Morgan whispered.

Lazarus nodded. �I�m afraid I�m going to be the death of you, Morgan. All of you.�

Maxwell Schmidt moved through the crowded streets, his unflappable poise standing in stark contrast to the harried expressions of those around him. Sovereign City was one of the most fast-paced cities in the entire world and at midday, it seemed that everyone was headed in different directions. Schmidt, however, had a coolness about him that caused many to glance in his direction as he passed.

He was well over six feet tall with close-cropped blond hair and glacier-blue eyes. He wore a well-tailored suit and his face looked like a grand master had chiseled it. He was the epitome of Aryan attractiveness and he radiated a cool detachment that was simultaneously enticing and off-putting.

Schmidt stopped outside a small one-story building nestled between two much larger structures. If you weren�t looking for it, you could have missed it, as it blended in almost perfectly to the background. Curtains covered all the windows but the front door had the words OMEGA SOLUTIONS stenciled on its surface.

Schmidt glanced both ways to make sure that he wasn�t being watched. He pulled out a small brass key and inserted it into the lock. The door swung open with a squeak and the German stepped inside and closed it tightly behind him. A receptionist�s desk greeted him and a perky young blonde behind it offered him a smile. She was on the phone but she hurriedly ended the call when Schmidt stepped up to lean on the desk.

�Herr Schmidt,� she said in a slightly wistful voice. Like most women, she was quite taken with the handsome and distant German. �Your appointment is waiting for you in your office.�

Schmidt removed his jacket and hung it up in a nearby closet. �Thank you, Inga. I heard about a raid on the Playpen last night. Anything of note?�

Inga�s smile faltered somewhat. She hated being the bearer of bad news. �It was Assistance Unlimited. They caught Fraulein Crumb and she gave them the address where Herr McIness was staying.�

Schmidt frowned, his smooth features transforming into something fearsome to behold. Inga clenched her tiny hands into fists, not realizing that her nails were digging into the sensitive skin of her palms. �Thank you.� His eyes flitted towards the closed door of his office. �Why don�t you go to the shops?� He removed his wallet and tossed a wad of cash onto her desk.

Snatching it up, Inga gave a brisk nod and hurried to the door. She definitely didn�t want to be here for whatever came next.

Schmidt adjusted his tie and stepped into his office, where McIness sat, an open newspaper in his hands. The Titan was a dark-haired man with heavy brows and a boxer�s nose. His skin was darkened by the sun and his overall bearing made him seem dangerous and unpolished. He wore a rumpled suit, though a dark shirt could be seen poking through the collar of his white button-down.

�How did you manage to escape from Assistance Unlimited?� Schmidt asked without preamble. �If you led them here�.�

�I didn�t,� McIness answered, setting aside the paper and shrugging his shoulders. �I wasn�t at the hotel when they came by to visit. I was with a lady friend. She charged by the hour and I was getting my money�s worth.�

�So they don�t know anything about us?�

McIness rose from his chair and looked up at Schmidt. The Titan was several inches below six feet in height but he was twice as broad as the German. �Greta was there. Who knows what she might have told them. But she doesn�t know your name or anything about this place.�

Schmidt stroked his chin thoughtfully. The witch was a wild card in the entire affair: a needed resource but one that he had foreseen as a potential liability. �No doubt they�ve taken her back to Assistance Unlimited�s headquarters.�

�Like I said, there�s not much she could tell them.�

�We can�t risk it,� the German said. He sat down heavily in a leather-backed chair behind his desk. He picked up a telephone and dialed a number without hesitation. McIness lit a cigarette while watching him, admiring what a cool customer Schmidt was. Nothing seemed to ruffle him, not even the possibility that they might be tussling with Lazarus Gray.

Recently, Schmidt�s activities had brought him to the attention of the city�s criminal kingpins: two mysterious gentlemen who operated under the identities of The Monster and Leviathan. Despite the fact that both were known for enslaving or killing their rivals, Schmidt had continued without any obvious fear.

�Jake,� Schmidt said into the phone. �I have a job for you. Demolition. I want a building to explode.�

McIness felt his eyes widen as Schmidt gave the address. It was one that every crook in Sovereign knew by heart. Schmidt was calmly ordering one of his men to blow up the headquarters of Assistance Unlimited!

The headquarters of Assistance Unlimited was located at 6196 Robeson Avenue. Lazarus Gray had purchased all three of the buildings that lay on this city block, transforming what had once been an unassuming neighborhood into the beating heart of his enterprise. The centerpiece of his holdings was a three-story structure that had once been a hotel. Gray�s three associates used the first floor, while the second had been gutted and converted into one large room that was used for meetings, briefings and research. The third floor was off-limits to everyone but Gray himself and was his private domicile.

Across the street were several storefronts owned by Lazarus, all of which had closed down at the dawn of the Great Depression.

Samantha Grace was leaning against one of the windows facing those storefronts, trying to remember what this area was like before the Great Crash of �29. The city had recovered in some ways but she bet it wouldn�t be back to its old boom days for quite some time to come � and that was with the consideration that the mass corruption that filled Sovereign was dealt with.

�Penny for your thoughts?�

Samantha turned to see Abby watching her, a cup of coffee held in her hands. An outsider would have thought the two women were polar opposites: Samantha was an All-American blonde who favored classy attire that emphasized her athletic build. Abby was dark-haired and curvaceous, tending to wear items that accentuated her natural charms. Likewise, their backgrounds couldn�t have been more different: Samantha was the daughter of wealthy socialites, while Abby had been born in the rural South, wearing hand-me-down clothes and scraping for every thing she got.

Despite all that, they had become fast friends. �That woman that Lazarus is questioning,� Samantha said, �She bothers me.�

�She should. She�s as crazy as a coon dog in heat.�

Samantha blurted out in laughter and then covered her mouth with a hand. �You�re awful.� Composing herself, she asked, �So is she really a witch?�

Abby nodded. �A pretty powerful one but limited in what she can do. She mostly does scrying spells � foretelling the future and things like that.�

�Morgan told me about that prophecy she gave last night. Do you think it�s going to come true?�

Abby sipped her coffee and shrugged. �The future�s not set in stone. Best you can do is hope to pick out the most likely path. But honestly, what did she say that everybody here didn�t already know? Being with Assistance Unlimited is pretty much a guarantee that you�re going to die violently� and as for being alone and unloved, well that part does seem unlikely. If nothing else, everybody here loves each other.�

Samantha smiled and took her friend by the hand. �I�m glad you�re one of us.�

Abby let out a long sigh. �So am I. It wasn�t that long ago that I�d decided to go out with a bang. Find something big to do, try and make a difference� and just let it all come to an end. But now that I�m here and I see all the good that Assistance Unlimited does, I want to keep going. You�re good people. I haven�t been able to say that about many people since mama died.�

�We�re lucky to have you,� Samantha said, giving Abby�s hand a squeeze.

Lazarus stared at the old witch, who was noisily eating a plate of bacon and eggs. Eun sat nearby, a frown on his handsome face. He didn�t care for the relatively nice treatment afforded to their prisoners but he had learned to hold his tongue about such matters. Lazarus was not a cruel man, though he could be a stern one, and he had long ago decided that their prisoners would be treated as human beings.

�We know your name,� Lazarus said, eliciting a grunt from the witch. �Greta Von Michaels. Born a gypsy, immigrated to the United States about four years ago. Since then, you�ve mostly vanished from the public eye, though the police have records that you�ve been warned multiple times about vagrancy. What we don�t know is why you were in that hotel room. What�s your connection to McIness?�

�McIness and I both work for another,� Greta said, wiping her mouth with a napkin. She maintained that look of amusement, no matter what she was saying or doing. �He is planning an expedition to South America. And there he hopes to find the ultimate power.�

Lazarus moved towards her, drawing up a chair so that he was close to her. �What kind of power?�

�There was once a tribe called the Indui. Spirits had visited them from the sky long ago. They were given the ability to create living weapons, defenders of their tribe. But one day a White Man came to them, injured and near death. The Indui had never seen anyone like him so they assumed he must be one of the Sky Spirits the elders had talked about. They nursed him back to health and taught them their tongue so that he might have the answers he sought. Then they set him loose.� Greta cackled, shaking her head. �They�d have been better off if they�d let him die. Instead, he went off and told people of what he�d seen. Men came there with guns and tanks, taking what they wanted and killing the Indui. These evil men set about fashioning their own living weapons but they were missing crucial parts of the ritual. Only one was successfully made. The others were deemed failures. McIness is one of those. My master thinks that McIness can locate the Indui village. It�s in his blood.�

Lazarus could feel Eun�s gaze upon him. After returning with Morgan and Greta the previous evening, Lazarus had told his aides about The Titan�s origins. �And what did you do for your master?�

�I advised him. Warned him when I could, swayed him to make the right decisions.�

�Who is he? Where can I find him?�

�Oh, he�ll find you, don�t worry.� Greta sat back in her chair and leered. �Besides, it�s not you that he must worry about right now� It�s the Terror.�

The Black Terror preferred operating at night, when his jet-black costume could blend into the darkness. The white skull and crossbones design on his chest would stand out; terrifying whatever crooks had stumbled into his path.

But the current business couldn't wait. The wiretap he'd placed on Schmidt's phone had alerted him to the fact that the German's private plane was being placed in standby mode at the Sovereign Airport. Schmidt was headed to South America and The Black Terror had a horrible suspicion that he knew why.

The Titan was a dangerous individual, a product of the same secretive project that had once employed Bob Benton. Though The Black Terror knew of McIness only by reputation, he felt a kinship with the man. They were both set apart from humanity for all time, their minds filled with memories that weren�t real. When Bob had finally figured that out, he�d teetered on the edge of madness. He had almost considered using his powers to hurt others, simply to prove that he was his own man. But in the end, he�d realized that lies or not, the story of The Black Terror was a story that he liked. He wanted to be that man, to inspire others to rise up against their oppressors.

And so the lies had become real, to a point.

The Omega Solutions building lay almost hidden between two much larger structures. The Black Terror would have missed it entirely if he hadn�t been looking for it so closely. He had used his great strength to bound from rooftop to rooftop and now he stood facing the business that was bankrolling McIness.

How The Titan and Schmidt had met, The Terror wasn�t sure� but it didn�t matter. Together, they were set to unleash a horrible scourge upon the earth.

The Black Terror threw himself into the air, kicking his legs as he sailed over a street full of cars. This being Sovereign City, the residents were somewhat used to the unusual but even here, the sight of the black-clad hero was enough to nearly cause two traffic accidents. He landed on the sidewalk outside the Omega Foundation building, the impact leaving a series of web-like cracks in the concrete.

Standing up quickly, The Black Terror lowered his left shoulder and charged the door. It exploded inward with a loud crash and The Terror allowed his momentum to carry him into the receptionist�s office.

Inga gave a startled cry and started to rise but she was only half out of her chair before The Black Terror had gripped her around the throat and lifted her into the air. She struggled to breathe as the hero brought her face close to his.

�Schmidt. Where is he?�

Inga�s eyes flickered over to second door and The Black Terror tossed her aside. She landed in a rolling heap, finally coming to rest against the wall. Aside from a bruised throat, she was unhurt, though her terror was so extreme that she had begun to sob.

The Black Terror took two steps towards the interior office and then flinched as a burst of flame enveloped the door. It was reduced to ash within seconds and then a figure emerged through the fire. The Black Terror knew that it was McIness, based upon the man�s attire: he wore black slacks and dress shoes, but he had dispensed with the white button-down shirt he�d worn upon first visiting Schmidt. Now he wore a navy blue shirt emblazoned with the symbol of an inverted cross, set in the center of a white circle.

The Black Terror looked past McIness, where he saw that Schmidt was in the office behind him. The German was wearing an oversized gauntlet on his right hand, with tubes extending from the wrist to a small canister on the man�s back. It was some sort of flame projector and The Terror saw more pieces of armor lying on top of Schmidt�s desk.

The Titan took advantage of The Terror�s distraction. He slammed a rock-hard fist into the hero�s face, crushing Bob�s nose. Blood spurted freely, drenching the front of his uniform. Though he healed very quickly, the pain was enough to bring tears to The Black Terror�s eyes. His skin was so dense that most attacks bounced harmlessly off of him � but The Titan was at least his equal in strength, if not his superior.

Before McIness could draw another punch, The Black Terror delivered two quick shots to the other man�s stomach, knocking the air from his lungs.

Through the blood that cascaded downward, The Black Terror hissed, �We don�t need to fight. I�m like you. I�m a product of the same experiment!�

The Titan paused, shock registering on his face. Then his expression contorted into something so ugly that The Black Terror flinched in response. The Titan brought both hands together and raised his clasped fists into the air. He slammed them down on the side of The Terror�s skull, driving the hero�s head against the wall. The plaster gave way and Bob�s head went through. He was yanked back out by McIness, who drove a left hand into his face, sending him to the floor.

�Stop.�

McIness paused, panting over the fallen form of his enemy. He turned to his left and saw that Schmidt had finished putting on his armor. He was now covered in a black bodysuit. His head was hidden beneath a circular dome that was filled with smoke. How he could see out of that thing, McIness didn�t have a clue. Tubes stretched from a canister on Schmidt�s back to each of the gauntlets he wore. The flames that had destroyed his office door had been silenced now and McIness remained impressed by his employer�s strange ability to control the fires he produced with his armor.

Schmidt moved closer to The Terror, nudging him with a booted foot. His voice was cold and metallic, muffled by the armor. �Who are you? Why are you here?�

The Black Terror struggled to his feet, well aware that both of his enemies were tensed for battle. �Because I�ve been looking for McIness. He and I have some things in common� things that need to stay out of the hands of men like you.�

Schmidt�s face couldn�t be seen but his body language betrayed his interest. �You�re like him, aren�t you?�

�Yes. And we need to remain the only two. All of the others went insane. With our power levels, that�s dangerous. I know you think you can control all of this, Schmidt, but you can�t. It�s bigger than you are.�

�You know nothing about me. Nothing!� Schmidt�s voice became louder and tiny flames began to dance around his gloved fingers. �And when I wear this suit, you�ll call me Prometheus!�

�The guy who was chained to a rock so the birds could eat his insides?�

�The man who stole fire from the gods and shared it with humanity.� Prometheus reached forward and placed his fingertips against The Black Terror�s head. �I can engulf you in flames right now� but I�m willing to spare you if you answer my questions.�

�I�m The Black Terror. And like I said, I�m here to talk to McIness.�

�How did you find us?�

�When the group that created me� went away� I started going through their files. I discovered that one of their earlier agents wasn�t euthanized. He escaped. So I started tracking him. Eventually I learned that he�d hooked up with a wealthy German with a taste for the occult: Maxwell Schmidt. Nothing I�d read said you liked playing dress up, though.�

�You have a strange sense of humor for someone who uses a name like The Black Terror and dresses like a cross between a pirate and a circus performer.�

�We can insult each other all day but it won�t change anything,� The Black Terror said. �You�re headed to South America to find out the secrets of making more people like McIness and myself. I�m not going to let that happen.�

�Let me kill him and be done with it,� McIness whispered, though there was a trace of doubt in his voice. Prometheus didn�t seem to have caught it but The Black Terror did.

The Black Terror turned to McIness, hoping to drive a larger wedge between the villains but Prometheus made that impossible. He released a fireball that struck The Black Terror directly in the face and soon spread over his entire body. Pain flooded Bob�s brain and he fell to the ground, writhing in agony.

McIness watched the scene with wide eyes. �What now?� he asked, obviously seeking direction. He�d never considered what would happen when he met someone like himself.

Prometheus stepped around the flailing Black Terror and grabbed Inga by her long blonde hair. She yelped, tears streaming down her face. He set her on her feet and turned to McIness. �We head out of the country. Now.�

Jake was known as the best demolitions man in Sovereign. The vast majority of the jobs he took were under the table, usually as part of an insurance scam. But he�d also been involved in three murders over the years, each time carefully setting off explosions that took innocent lives.

Normally, he would have avoided anything like the current gig. But Maxwell Schmidt paid very, very well and he usually sweetened the deal by supplying Jake with prostitutes when the job was properly done. Considering that Jake was a rather homely man, that last bit was quite worth the dangers that sometimes came with the employment.

This current affair was perhaps the most challenging of his career, however. Robeson Avenue was well-known for being the home to Assistance Unlimited and it was rumored that the street was under constant surveillance. Jake had spent a good half hour looking over the area before making his move and he�d seen absolutely nothing: no sign of sentries, no stray dogs or cats and no cars. If it wasn�t for the illuminated windows of the Assistance Unlimited building itself, Jake would have thought that the entire block was abandoned.

Maybe, he mused, the rumors were a little overblown. Lazarus Gray and company probably spread the lies themselves to help with security � but they hadn�t counted on a man like Jake and the powerful need for money and sex that drove him.

Jake had slung a heavy bag filled with dynamite, tape, and a set of matches over his shoulder and slunk through the shadows, approaching the site. He wanted to plant explosives at several key places around the building, using his knowledge of demolition to ensure that the entire place would implode at the right moment.

After about twenty minutes, he�d inserted enough dynamite around the side of the building to virtually destroy it, but he needed more to insure that the job was done right. He was busily picturing what sort of girl � or girls � Schmidt might reward him with when someone tapped him on the shoulder. He froze in place, crouched over a stack of dynamite.

Slowly, he turned his head, his eyes widening before a fist crashed into his nose. Blood spurted from both nostrils and he fell over, knocking the dynamite askew.

Eun Jiwon stood over Jake, cracking his knuckles. Just behind him was Samantha Grace, looking somehow both beautiful and dangerous.

�We�ve been watching you,� the young Korean said. �The only reason we waited this long was because we couldn�t believe what we were seeing. What kind of idiot comes to our street and tries something like this?�

�I�m not an idiot,� Jake muttered. His eyes darted about, trying to find some avenue of escape. He couldn�t afford to go to jail. Even in Sovereign, where the judicial system was as corrupt as they came, there was such a thing as going to the well once too often. He was a repeat offender with a long history � the D.A. would throw the book at him, making it look like he was �tough on crime.�

Eun reached down and grabbed the thug by the collar, yanking him to his feet. �You sure could have fooled me. You know who we are and I bet you�ve heard the stories about our security system � so are you crazy or desperate? You�ve got to be one or the other to try something like this.�

Samantha spoke up, her soft voice carrying an edge of steel. �If you tell us everything, we�re willing to put in a good word for you with the police. But if you want to play rough, Eun�s going to force the truth out of you.�

Jake saw from Eun�s expression which way the Korean was hoping things would go. Swallowing hard, he said, �I was hired to blow up your building. I don�t know if he wanted you dead or if it was just meant to keep you busy. That�s all I know.�

�We need a name,� Eun said, disappointment evident on his face. He�d been looking forward to thrashing this guy. �Who do you work for?�

�Maxwell Schmidt. He owns a business called Omega Solutions. I don�t know what they do there.�

Eun looked over at Samantha. �Isn�t that the name of the guy that the crazy old witch works for?�

Samantha nodded. Though Greta had refused to give up her employer�s name, Abby had managed to find out his identity. The young Southern had taken obvious pride in the fact that she hadn�t used her magical abilities to do it, either � she�d discovered the answer through old-fashioned detective work. The last time that Greta had been picked up for vagrancy, she�d been released into the custody of a German named Maxwell Schmidt. In fact, Lazarus was headed over to Omega Solutions right now, with Morgan, Abby and Jakob in tow.

�So� you guys gonna go easy on me?� Jake asked in a whiny voice.

Eun looked back at him and grinned. �Yeah. A whole lot easier than I�d like to.� He drove his forehead hard against Jack�s skull, the crack sounding so loud that Samantha winced.

Jake�s eyes rolled up into his head and he sagged in Eun�s grip.

�You�re awful,� Samantha said, though there was no venom to her words. She sounded amused, in fact.

�It�s better than he deserves.�

�No argument there.� Samantha reached down and picked up the dynamite. �I�ll handle the cleanup if you call the authorities.�

�Fair trade.� Eun let Jake slip to the ground and then began dragging him by the collar. �Don�t blow yourself up.�

�I�ll try.�

The Omega Solutions building had burned to the ground by the time Lazarus Gray and his allies arrived. The firemen and police on the scene regarded the heroes with a mixture of awe and disdain, depending on how honest they were.

Lazarus spotted a small knot of detectives huddled around an ambulance and he moved towards them. �What happened here?� he demanded.

A wippet-thin man with one perpetually narrowed eye turned to face Lazarus. Inspector Cord was not a fan of Assistance Unlimited and he�d made that quite clear in the past. �Well, look at what the cat dragged in. You can turn around and get back into your car, Gray. We�ve got this under control.�

Lazarus looked past him, seeing a handsome man in a singed black uniform. He recognized The Black Terror immediately, even though the hero�s activities had been mostly under the public radar thus far. �I�ll take it from here, Inspector.�

Cord�s face turned bright red. �The hell you will.�

Lazarus focused his gaze on The Black Terror. �Where did Maxwell Schmidt go?�

�South America. He�s got The Titan with him, too, if you know who that is.�

�I do.�

Bob Benton stood up, brushing away the paramedics who had been treating him. His burns had healed miraculously fast and now he just looked a bit ruffled but unharmed. He offered a gloved hand to Lazarus. �The Black Terror. It�s an honor, Mr. Gray.�

�Same here. Let�s go. We can talk on the way back to headquarters. If need be, I have a private plane we can use to go after Schmidt.�

�Prometheus.�

�What?�

�That�s what Schmidt is calling himself.�

Lazarus nodded and put a hand on Cord�s shoulder. �I�m deputized and you know it. We have full authority to intervene in any case that we deem beyond your ability to handle.�

�There�s nothing I can�t handle,� Cord retorted.

�Take it up with the Mayor.� Lazarus drew The Black Terror aside and pointed him towards their car. �Morgan, please start the engine.�

�Sure thing, Chief.�

Lazarus looked at Cord one last time. �I apologize for embarrassing you in front of your men,� he said quietly. �But this really is bigger than you know.�

Cord kept his voice just as low. �Do what you want, Gray. But you better know this: your day is coming. And when it gets here, I�m gonna be first in line to laugh at you when you fall.�

The Indui tribe was hidden deep in the jungles of South America, far from the strongholds of civilization. Since their concept of time was quite different from that of the men who uncovered their existence, no one knew exactly how old their tribe was, nor how long it had been since the mysterious visitors from the stars had come to see them.

But their ability to �grow� human beings was an obvious testament to the truth of their legends. The Indui had cultivated several large plant-like structures of alien origin, each large enough to contain a full-grown human. Using a mixture of local ingredients and the bodily fluids of various Indui elders, they were able to urge the plants to produce a unique kind of fruit: humanoid entities whose minds were pliable, waiting to be filled with instruction. The Indui had noticed that each creation of the plants was different than those who had gone before � some had dark hair and eyes, others light. Some had skin colors that did not match anything the Indui had ever seen. With practice, some of the elders were able to imprint certain features upon the creations, praying upon the plants before they gave up their fruit.

All were strong and fierce, ready to obey the commands the elders gave them: to defend the tribe at all cost.

In the end, however, they were not strong enough to save the tribe.

The Americans had taken as many of the huge plants as they could, along with the ingredients they thought they would need. But something had been lacking and the men they created eventually went insane� and in the end, the plants had died, despite all attempts to save them. The project to create a superhuman soldier had produced only one true success: The Black Terror.

Maxwell Schmidt had known nothing of the Indui or their strange means of creating life� not before McIness had stumbled into his office one day, hoping to find someone who would pay him handsomely to do the one thing he was good at: killing people.

Schmidt had hired The Titan after seeing a sample of his strength but he�d insisted on learning everything there was to know about his new employee. When the truth had come tumbling out, Schmidt had realized the full potential of all this. He had the potential now to raise his own army of enforcers, men and women who could possibly breed with one another and no longer require the use of the plants to produce more.

Like the mythical Prometheus, he would steal fire from the gods and present it to humanity. But it would his fire, his to control and to share.

�Never expected to run into another person like me.�

Schmidt looked up, his reverie broken by the words of McIness, who sat across from him on the private plane they shared. The Titan was still in his �working clothes,� which Schmidt found amusing. It didn�t matter ultimately, since no one at the airfield gave them a second glance, but Schmidt preferred to wear his own adventuring gear when it was necessary to do so. He wasn�t Prometheus full-time, after all. Within the armor, he was Maxwell Schmidt, a mutant born with a form of pyrokinesis.

�You seem troubled by this,� Schmidt pointed out. He sat back in his seat, crossing his legs. �Why?�

McIness shrugged. �I just figured I was the only one to get away.�

�You were the only failure to get away,� Schmidt pointed out. �From the looks of things, this Black Terror was considered to be a success. He hasn�t had the mental breakdowns that the rest of them � including you � did.�

�I�m not a failure,� The Titan answered testily. �Just because I wasn�t some zombie they could order around doesn�t make me a mistake of some kind. It�s the opposite; I was too smart for them.� Schmidt said nothing, but the look on his face was enough to send McIness into a fury. �I�m not just some muscleman, damn it! I don�t need you!�

Schmidt coolly replied, �Then by all means, grab yourself a parachute and take a flying leap. But I seem to recall that you were a man with massive gambling debts, an expensive opium habit, and absolutely no prospects. You were wanted by every law enforcement agency known to man. I gave you a job, cleaned you up and made some of those problems go away. And all I�ve asked in return is that you do the things you like to do anyway � murder, mayhem, violence � on my behalf.�

�And you want to know how to grow more of me.�

�More like you, yes.�

McIness leaned forward and a note of desperation crept into his voice. �The scientists told me that I wouldn�t be able to mate with a normal woman. I�ll never have a kid� I�ll never have a brother or a sister. Except for somebody like The Black Terror. He�s the closest thing to a family I�ll ever have.�

�And we killed him,� Schmidt said. �I understand. But it�s over and done with. You have a job to do now� so put it out of your mind and move on.�

�You�re a real piece of work, Mr. Schmidt.� McIness didn�t bother to hide his disgust.

�I�m your employer, not your friend.� Schmidt felt a change in the cabin�s air pressure and looked out the window. They were preparing for a landing. Since the Indui tribe had been so isolated, there were was no way to set the plane down close to their old village. Instead, the plane was going to come to a rest just outside the jungle, forcing Schmidt and his party to travel the rest of the way on foot.

The German studied McIness once more. �Can I count on you? Or do you need to stay behind on the plane?�

�I�ll be fine.� The Titan stood up, flexing his muscles as the plane bumped and rolled along the ground. It was an impressive feat since the harsh motions of the aircraft would have been enough to knock almost anyone to the floor. Titan cracked his knuckles to emphasize his words. �More than fine. I just hope I get to kill something.�

Schmidt smiled, his eyes lighting up. �Oh, I�m sure that opportunity will present itself. Have no fear.�

The members of Assistance Unlimited were not far behind Schmidt�s plane. Onboard their own personal aircraft, the majority of the team was seated in the ample passenger area, talking with each other or playing board games. In the cockpit, Lazarus was piloting the plane while Sporrenberg sat at his side, serving as copilot.

Their guest, The Black Terror sat by himself, watching the easy way in which his allies interacted. He felt a twinge of jealousy as he surveyed the scene. Despite the fictional history he�d been given, he knew now that there was no �Tim� to adventure at his side, nor was there a Jean Starr waiting for him to return home. He was alone, a freak of nature.

Bob was so lost in his spell of depression that he didn�t even notice that Samantha had spoken to him. With a smile of apology, he asked her to repeat what she had said.

�I asked what you were planning to do after we caught these guys.� Samantha took a seat across from him, crossing her legs as she did so. She noticed that Bob�s eyes momentarily dropped down to watch the motion but he was enough of a gentleman that his gaze quickly returned to her own. She didn�t really mind if a man appraised her physically, it was often quite flattering in fact; but she liked it even more when they obviously regarded her as more than a pretty face. With Bob, there was no doubt of that. He looked at her in a way that made it clear that he regarded her as an equal.

�Go back to what I was doing before: helping people. I don�t really know anything else.�

Samantha nodded, remembering all that The Black Terror had told them back at Assistance Unlimited HQ. He�d been remarkably open about his origins and the fact that he was, on some level, a plant-like creature that only resembled a human. Add to that the fact that his entire back-story was a lie concocted by the government and Samantha was feeling a lot of pity for him. �You know, Assistance Unlimited is always looking for new faces.�

�I appreciate that� more than you know. But I�m not ready to stay in any one place. I know that Tim and Jean don�t really exist but I keep feeling like that I�ll find them somewhere. I just have to keep looking.�

�I bet you�ll find someone who can fill those roles,� Samantha said. �I really do.�

Bob looked away, studying the South American terrain from his window. �I hope you�re right.�

Prometheus wore his full garb despite the oppressive humidity of the jungle. He trudged through the foliage like a mechanical god, his armor glistening with droplets of water. Behind him, The Titan followed closely with over a dozen gunmen at his heels. The hired guns were there mainly to help carry whatever they found back to the plane, there was little that the group would encounter in the jungle that Prometheus or Titan couldn�t handle. So far, any animal that had caught sight of the group had wisely bolted in the opposite direction.

The trek took nearly three hours and led them on an upward path. Schmidt began regretting his decision to wear the armor as his muscles began to rebel at the repetitious actions required to drag the bulk up the hills. He refused to complain, however. The pain was liberating in its way, reminding him of his ultimate goal.

Creating an army was only the beginning of his plan. With the ability to shape bodies to his liking, Schmidt felt confident that he could make an endless supply of replacement forms for himself. How he would transfer his consciousness into them was still a major stumbling block but through magic or science, he would find a way.

And then he would live forever.

Schmidt was enjoying the notion so much that he didn�t notice the peculiar strands of sticky material that hung down around him. It was actually one of his men who began to thrash about and shout that caused Prometheus to realize what was occurring.

The German turned to see his men trying to shake the sticky material from their limbs, with little success. That was when he looked down to see that his own body was covered with the strands. There was something familiar about the material but it was McIness who first voiced what Schmidt was thinking.

�It�s a giant spider�s web!�

Prometheus looked all around, his eyes widening. This deep in the jungle, so close to a village touched by aliens from beyond, there was no telling what could be found.

And then, dropping with astonishing speed, was the source of the massive web: a spider that was easily the size of a small car. Its body was covered with bristles of hair and its eyes shone wetly. Its mandibles moved hungrily and before anyone could react beyond a scream, the spider had snatched up one of the men and covered him with more of the webbing, sealing him up tight like a sausage.

�Shoot the damned thing!� McIness yelled and the remaining men reacted, yanking out their pistols and opening fire.

The spider reacted quickly, the bullets ripping holes throughout its body. It turned to face its attackers and reared up, poison dripping from its fangs. It fell on two of the men, filling them with venom.

McIness sprinted forward, driving a powerful fist into the hindquarters of the monster. The spider�s dense flesh provided a surprising amount of resistance but McIness felt a surge of confidence that he could kill the beast. Some of that enthusiasm fled quickly, however, for the spider knocked him off-balance with one of its legs. It then pounced atop him, the venom from its fangs dripped onto his face.

Prometheus watched all of this with wide eyes. Was this monster simply some creature that had never been discovered by civilized man? Or was it a byproduct of the alien interference in the area?

In the end, it didn�t matter. McIness was too valuable to lose at this point. Prometheus raised an arm and activated the controls that allowed him to spew forth a long plume of fire. Then his natural ability to control flame came into use: he directed the stream away from McIness, instead sending it skittering along the spider�s body. It made a noise that Prometheus associated with a scream, yanking its bulk away from the painful attack. It tried to vanish into the jungle but Prometheus pursued it, feeling flush with power as he killed the much larger beast.

The spider finally collapsed onto the jungle floor, the fire causing its body to shrivel. When he was confident the battle was over, Prometheus silenced the flames, snuffing it out mentally.

He counted heads and realized that�s lost five men during the conflict. That still left seven gunmen and McIness, more than enough for the job that needed doing� assuming there weren�t more of these monsters to deal with.

�What the hell was that thing?� McIness asked, brushing himself off. His face looked burned where the acid had touched it and the fool was smearing it around while attempting to wipe it away.

�Olaf, give him your canteen. You need to wash the poison away, Herr McIness.� Prometheus turned back to the spider and nudged its shriveled carcass with a boot. �This is proof that we are on the right track, I think. I can�t imagine that this thing is natural.�

�What if there�s more of them?� Olaf asked, tossing his canteen to McIness. �Maybe we should go back for more guns� or more men.�

Prometheus whirled on the man, arms extended. From the tubes connected to both his gauntlets streamed forth twin waves of fire. Olaf was engulfed in the inferno, his agonized howls silencing the birds and insects. Olaf took off screaming into the jungle, his entire body aflame.

Schmidt calmly regarded the rest of his men. �Anyone else want to turn back?�

A soft murmuring of negatives soothed Schmidt and the German resumed the march, McIness at his side.

�What�s wrong?� Schmidt asked. �Are you turning coward, too?�

�No. It�s just� Maybe there�s going to be more traps up ahead. There must be some reason why the guys at the Project didn�t just return here to look for more supplies.�

Prometheus had thought about that same thing. His suspicions were that the agency had somehow lost the exact coordinates but it was possible that they�d destroyed everything in their wake, so there would be nothing to come back for. If it were the latter, this entire trip would be a wasted expense. But he had to hope that there was something still out there, something that he could claim for his own.

Lazarus Gray landed his plane alongside the one belonging to Maxwell Schmidt. There had been a pilot onboard the other craft but Morgan and Eun had dragged the fellow out to the jungle floor. After a few threats of physical violence, the man had confirmed the direction that Schmidt and his men had gone in. Morgan had then trussed up the pilot and gagged him, throwing him into the hold of the Assistance Unlimited aircraft.

Lazarus stared into the heart of the jungle, aware that his aides were packing for the journey. He didn�t bother checking on their actions: each of them was fully capable of taking care of any situation. He trusted each of them with all his heart and soul.

The Black Terror joined him. �It�s somewhere up there,� he said, pointing towards a rising mountain. �Not all that far, really. There�s no way we�re going to beat them to the Indui village.�

�We don�t have to beat them there. We just have to prevent them from leaving.� Lazarus turned to the others. �I want some of you to stay behind in case they return. They�re going to see our plane but there�s not much we can do about that � this is the only spot we could have landed for miles around.�

Abby grinned. �Lazarus, I�m hurt. Did you forget about little ol� me?�

In response to her employer�s questioning stare, the buxom brunette raised her hands into the air, her full lips moving softly. She spoke something that sounded like Latin but wasn�t. Within seconds, a thick fog had begun to surround the area. Both planes and all those standing around them were now hidden from sight.

Samantha burst out in applause and Abby made a flourish with her right hand and took a bow.

�Nice work,� Lazarus said. �It�s still taking some time to get used to your abilities. I don�t want us to become complacent, expecting you to handle everything� but it�s a definite advantage having you on our side.�

Abby blushed a bit and nodded. She admired Lazarus greatly and though she didn�t carry a torch for him the way Samantha was rumored to, she appreciated his praise.

Lazarus began barking out orders and the people under him jumped to comply. Though no one liked to be left behind, they all understood that every role was important. �Morgan, please stay here with Abby and Eun. Jakob, Samantha and The Terror will come with me.�

The Black Terror leaned in close, whispering. �We don�t know how many men Schmidt may have brought with him. Are you sure that the four of us will be enough?�

�You�re strong enough to handle a half dozen men all on your own,� Lazarus answered. �And I�d wager that any of us could do the same, though with different styles. We�ll be fine. Besides, four of us are more likely to sneak up on Schmidt�s crew than seven would be.�

Eun tapped the small radio that he wore. It was hidden in his right ear; tiny enough to avoid being seen in most cases but powerful enough to connect members of Assistance Unlimited over enormous distances, depending upon weather and the layout of the land. �We�ll be listening for you, Chief.�

�Good.� Lazarus headed off into the jungle. The Black Terror, Jakob and Samantha followed single-file, each of them casting wary eyes at the dense vegetation. For all they knew, Schmidt had left behind someone for an ambush, so all were on high alert.

They had been traveling for just over fifteen minutes when they heard a ragged cry from ahead. All of them froze in place. Each of them was armed with both pistols and knives and they drew whichever weapon they felt most comfortable with: for the men, it was pistols but Samantha favored the cold steel of her knife.

A flaming figure bolted from the jungle, his arms waving spasmodically. He tripped and fell just shy of Lazarus, tumbling down the hill. Lazarus was quickly in action, ripping off his shirt, sending buttons flying. He wrapped up the burned man, patting him down until the flames were out.

From the sickening odor that hung in the air and the smoke that tumbled off the man�s body, Samantha knew it was too late. She covered her mouth and nose to avoid retching.

Lazarus pulled away his ruined shirt, tossing it aside. Jakob joined him in examining the dead man. He was too badly burned for any kind of visual identification and all of his belongings had been reduced to ash.

�Prometheus did that,� The Black Terror murmured. He was staring off in the direction that the burning man had come. �I�d bet my dollar on it.�

Lazarus stood up, his impassive face showing no reaction to the dead body before him. His eyes, however, shone with fury � death in any form disturbed him greatly, especially when it could have been avoided.

�We can�t be far behind them,� he said. �If we hurry, we might catch up to them before they can finish their business in the village.�

Sporrenberg quickly followed his employer into the jungle, but his eyes strayed back to the burned corpse behind them. He knew how Lazarus felt about killing but he was a former soldier and had no such qualms. In fact, he thought it was the only real way to deal with madmen like Schmidt. When the time came, he wouldn�t hesitate to kill his fellow German.

And Lazarus Gray would simply have to deal with that.

�This is it. I�m sure of it.�

Prometheus stared at the splintered remains of a half dozen tents and what was once a fire pit� and he couldn�t help but feel a sense of disappointment. �Are you sure?�

McIness moved through the dusty paths and nodded. �Yes. I can feel it in my bones. This is where the Indui lived.�

Schmidt reached up and unsnapped the bolts that held his helmet in place. He pulled it off, exposing his sweaty features to the air. Gesturing to his men, he said, �Look around. See if you can find anything that appears useful.�

The men snapped to it, each of them eager to be done with this trek into the jungle. They were some of Sovereign�s finest but South America was far outside their range of expertise, and whatever bravery they had mustered before had been spent after the incident with the spider.

Schmidt followed McIness, who was wandering through the village like a bloodhound. �You�re still sensing something here?�

�Yes.� McIness glanced at him, a hungry expression on his face. �I can�t describe it but there�s something here� something that�s calling to me. It� it�s like my mother�s voice.�

�You didn�t have a mother,� Schmidt pointed out but McIness ignored him.

The Titan stopped in front of a large pit, capped by some sort of metal covering. Prometheus moved closer, his eyes widening. The material didn�t seem to be anything that he�d ever seen before, and it was definitely shaped by unnatural forces, meaning that a native tribe shouldn�t have been able to make such a thing.

�We�re not alone,� McIness whispered and a second later the screaming began.

Prometheus looked around as gunfire rang out. He saw two of his men cut down by spears thrown from the trees and another stepped into a trap, the ground beneath him giving way. His screams stopped abruptly as he hit whatever lay in the pit.

Schmidt quickly fumbled with his helmet, intending to put it back over his face. Before he could do that, he felt McIness grab hold of his shoulder, twisting him so that they were face-to-face. �Let go of me,� the German demanded. �We�re all going to die unless we do something.�

The Titan drew his fist back and drove it hard into Schmidt�s face. The impact was so great that most of the German�s nose was obliterated, sending bone and blood flying. McIness gave Schmidt a shove and the twitching body fell backward, landing hard on the ground. It flopped around for a long moment and then grew still.

The Titan shook the gore off his hand and stood there for a moment, until the sounds of battle came to an end. He saw that several of the Indui were approaching, spears held tightly in their hands. He smiled at them and they paused, as if sensing what he truly was.

One by one, the natives began to fall to their knees before him. They chanted in their strange tongue and McIness knew they were welcoming him home.

�We�re not far.�

Lazarus glanced over at The Black Terror, who was staring into the jungle. �How do you know?�

�It�s hard to explain� but it feels like there�s a humming in my brain as we get closer.�

Lazarus lowered his voice, so that Samantha and Jakob would not hear. �It may not be my place to say this but I hope you�re not laboring under some misconception about your humanity.�

�What do you mean?� Bob asked tersely.

�You�re as human as I am, whether you were born in the normal fashion or not. I believe that the measure of a man has more to do with the quality of his soul than it does with the origins of his conception.�

�I�m not sure I have a soul.�

Lazarus reached out and touched The Terror�s arm. �No man could risk as much as you have for the benefit of others and not have a soul. I�ve seen the worst of this world � men and women who could truly be described as soulless. And you are not one of them.�

The Black Terror nodded, touched by the other man�s words. All of them had been on high alert since finding the burned remains of what appeared to be a giant spider, and as they neared the remains of the Indui camp, Bob was increasingly on edge. �Thank you. I appreciate that.�

�Look out!� Sporrenberg shouted, bringing the two men in the front to a halt. Lazarus spotted McIness on the rim of the next rise. Six men who were dressed in native garb and who brandished spears flanked him.

�The Indui,� The Black Terror whispered. �I thought they were extinct.�

�Some of them must have survived the attack,� Lazarus murmured. Raising his voice, he shouted, �Is Maxwell Schmidt with you?�

McIness shook his head. �He and all his men are dead.�

The Black Terror took a few steps forward. �You finally realized how dangerous he was?�

�Something like that. More like I figured out that I didn�t need him any more. I�d always had it in the back of my mind that I might betray him once he got me here but it wasn�t until I saw that the Indui were still alive that it really took hold. I�m like a god to them � and so are you. If you want to join me, that is.�

The Black Terror studied his �brother�s� face. �Do they still have the ability to make more like us?�

�They�re nursing one of the plants back to health,� McIness said. �In a few months, they can start growing more. We could be the kings of a whole new army!�

Lazarus saw Bob clench his fists and he knew what The Black Terror�s answer would be. The leader of Assistance Unlimited bolted forward, clambering up the hill with astonishing speed. The Indui reacted slowly, amazed at the rapidness of their enemy. McIness started to shout something but before the words left his mouth Lazarus was barreling into him, knocking him back.

The Titan was far more powerful than Lazarus but the hero was an expert in the human body. He knew every pressure point and just how to manipulate them. McIness howled in pain as Lazarus delivered three quick punches, each aimed at a different nerve cluster.

McIness recovered far more quickly than a normal man would and he backhanded Lazarus with such force that the leader of Assistance Unlimited was knocked away a good five feet.

By this time the Indui had sprung into action. Though they didn�t know what exactly was going on, they considered McIness to be one of them and were eager to protect him. Their confusion mounted when they saw The Black Terror, however. There was little doubt that he, too, was born of the sky-gods and their magic plants.

Sporrenberg and Samantha had no such doubts. They followed their leader with gusto, each dispatching members of the tribe in their own preferred fashion. Jakob shot two of the tribesmen in the legs, wounding them enough that they were hobbled for the rest of the battle, while Samantha used her jujitsu to flip one and disable another with a well-placed kick to the neck.

The Black Terror dispatched the rest of the Indui, though it pained him to do so. He delivered a series of taps to the men that were enough to send them into unconsciousness but not enough to do any permanent damage.

The black-garbed hero saw Lazarus go flying just as the last of the Indui was hitting the ground. The Black Terror barely had time to gird himself before McIness charged him. The two men were carried back by The Titan�s momentum, vanishing over the side of the hill. They tumbled down, each man raining blows down upon the other, until they vanished from sight.

Samantha ran over to help Lazarus to his feet. �Are you okay?� she asked, her eyes scanning his face for any sign of pain. It was always hard to read his emotional and physical state, given how expressionless his face usually remained.

�I�m fine,� he said. A few of the Indui were beginning to stir and Lazarus hastily led Sporrenberg and Samantha down the path to the village. �We�ll have to trust that The Black Terror can take care of himself. I want to get a look at the village and see how much of that technology remains.�

The German member of the group reloaded his pistol as he ran. �If we find that plant of theirs, we�re going to destroy it, yes?�

�That�s my plan,� Lazarus admitted. �But I might want to let The Black Terror have some say in it. That thing might be the only chance for him to ever have anyone else like him in this world.�

�Given the way all the others have turned out, I�m not sure that�s a good thing.�

�We don�t know that the ones the Indui produced went insane. All we have to go by is what the project did� and for all we know, they may have missed something.�

The trio slowed to a stop as they entered the village � because standing before them, his face a horrific mess, was the still very-much alive Maxwell Schmidt. The villain was swaying on his feet, blood streaming from the remains of his nose, but his eyes were clear enough. The villain held his helmet in one hand and he quickly dropped it over his face, snapping it shut.

�Schmidt,� Lazarus said. �Stand down. You�re in no shape for a fight.�

�I am Prometheus,� was the reply. �And I shall bring the gift of fire to the world.�

Raising both gauntlets, Prometheus unleashed a powerful wave of flame at his enemies.

Abby, Eun and Morgan passed the time by playing cards, having set up a small table just outside their plane. Though Morgan was an experienced gambler, he soon found himself consistently outfoxed by Abby, who used her beauty to great effect. She laughed gaily, flirting audaciously, and it kept Morgan off-balance. He tried to remind himself that she was deliberately teasing him but it was impossible when he was confronted by her lovely features.

Eun, meanwhile, was absolutely horrible at poker. Never good at hiding his emotions at the best of times, he was completely unable to hide his reaction to whatever hand he held.

The young Korean groaned and tossed down the last of his chips. �I give up,� he said as Abby raked in her winnings.

�Don�t quit yet, sugar.� Abby said in her sweetest Southern twang. �I�ll even let you borrow some of my chips so you can keep playing. But I�m gonna charge you interest,� she added with a wink.

�You�re a card shark,� Eun said hotly. He stood up and paced about, unable to contain his frustration.

�Calm down,� Morgan laughed. �It�s just a game. And we�re not even using real money.�

�I just hate losing.�

Abby rose from her chair and arched her back, stretching. She didn�t seem to notice the way Morgan stared at her up-thrust breasts � or else she didn�t mind. �I wonder how things are going with the others?�

Morgan cleared his throat, suddenly very warm in his coat and tie. �I feel sorry for Schmidt and his friends. Lazarus and The Black Terror are going to tie them up like pretzels.�

�No offense, but I�d rather be with them. I can�t stand waiting.�

Eun looked at Abby and nodded. �I�m the same way. It�s ridiculous! I�m a fighter and you�re a witch � we should be with Lazarus, not Jakob or Samantha.�

�Samantha�s a fighter, too,� Morgan pointed out. �And so is Jakob. �They also serve who stand and wait,� remember?�

Eun was about to reply in a rather filthy fashion when Abby touched his arm and directed his attention towards the mountain that Lazarus and the others had attempted to climb. There were two men tumbling down the mountainside, rolling end-over-end. Remarkably, they were both exchanging blows while doing so.

Morgan sprang up, his pistol in hand. Even from that distance, it was obvious that one of the combatants was The Black Terror, and the other matched some of the wanted posters of McIness that they�d studied.

As the two men hit bottom, they both scrambled to their feet, continuing to punch at one another. Both were bruised and bloodied, the force of their attacks echoing through the jungle.

The Black Terror drove an elbow into the side of The Titan�s head and as McIness slumped to the side Abby cast a spell that created a small funnel of air between them. The two combatants were driven apart and both of them noticed for the first time that they were no longer alone.

The Black Terror held up a hand towards the members of Assistance Unlimited. �Stay out of this!�

Eun grinned, the possibility of battle having restored his good humor. �The hell we will!� The young Korean sprinted forward and threw himself into the air, foot first. His heel slammed into the back of The Titan�s head but the villain�s dense flesh had very little give to it. As a result, Eun landed in a crouch, a grimace of pain on his face. His foot felt like he�d kicked a brick wall!

Abby and Morgan were almost just as trigger-happy. Morgan fired two quick bullets but they ricocheted off The Titan�s chest, narrowly missing Eun. Realizing that his gun was useless, Morgan holstered it and let out a curse.

Abby�s attack was a bit more effective: she called upon the elemental spirits in the area and charged the air around McIness with electricity. It crackled up and down his flesh like tiny bursts of lightning, eliciting a howl of surprised pain from The Titan.

The Black Terror knew that this was his chance. They were too evenly matched for a clear victory on either side but now that McIness was stunned, he was free to end the battle.

Sadly, he knew that it would have to be ended permanently. The madness that held The Titan in its grasp would not be improved � and it could only be slaked through murder and violence, neither of which The Black Terror could allow.

The Black Terror drew back his right hand and then drove his fist forward; channeling all the inhuman might that he possessed. The blow struck McIness right above the heart, landing with all the force of a bomb.

The Titan�s eyes widened in shock as his heart skipped a beat� and then another�

McIness fell forward, his heart seizing up. The villain gasped and then grew still.

The Black Terror swayed on his feet. He reached up to wipe at his eyes, knowing that he might possibly have killed the only person in the world who would ever be like him.

Lazarus Gray shoved his aides toward the ground, landing atop them. He shielded them with his own body as Prometheus unleashed his flames and the skin on Lazarus� back sizzled.

When the attack ceased, Lazarus rolled off and stood up. He could smell the burned flesh of his back and knew that he was going to leave today with a new set of scars.

Samantha let out a gasp when she saw Lazarus but she knew that there was no time to check on him. She and Sporrenberg both looked towards Prometheus, who had fallen to his knees.

�I�m going to be a god,� Prometheus said. �Bring fire to the world of man.�

Lazarus approached him slowly, kneeling before the man. He reached out and unhooked the tubes leading from the back of Schmidt�s armor to the gauntlets. Once he felt comfortable that the villain was disarmed, he began removing Schmidt�s helmet, revealing the glazed eyes of a man who was near death.

�Maxwell,� Lazarus said, ignoring his own pain and focusing instead of the suffering of the man who had just tried to kill him. �We can get you help.�

�No. I�m broken inside. I can� feel it.�

Lazarus saw that one of Schmidt�s eyes was filling with blood and he knew that the German was right� but all hope was not lost. �One of our members is a witch. She might be able to heal you.�

Maxwell�s face suddenly broke into a grin. �I can see it� my golden throne. Everyone is calling my name. I�ve won! I�m a god! Hahahahahahahaha!�

Sporrenberg stepped up and put the barrel of his gun against Schmidt�s skull. The villain didn�t even seem to notice.

�Lazarus?� Jakob asked.

With a weary sigh, Lazarus stood up and nodded. �Do it. We can�t let him suffer like this. Whatever�s wrong inside of him is not going to be easily repaired.�

Lazarus led Samantha further into the village and the girl jumped slightly as Sporrenberg pulled the trigger, ending the short-lived godhood of Prometheus.

Bob Benton nervously looked over the script he had prepared. It had been an exciting time in recent weeks, with all that he�d had to do. After the deaths of McIness and Schmidt, he�d helped explore the Indui village with Assistance Unlimited. He�d befriended the natives that remained and Lazarus had pledged to help protect them from the outside world in the future.

In return for all their kindness, the Indui had given The Black Terror a very special gift. It had taken some time to nurture it into full health but in the end it had bloomed, providing him with not one but two choice fruits.

They sat side-by-side now, a beautiful blonde and a young boy. Both regarded him with wide eyes. They were tabula rasa, waiting to be filled.

Bob stepped up in front of them and smiled. In return, they smiled back.

�Your names are Jean Starr and Tim Roland,� he said. �Now repeat them for me.�

Melvin Pemberley was fifty-one years old, though he could pass for a man in his mid-thirties. He was handsome in an Aryan sort of way, with shortcut blond hair, blue eyes that resembled chipped polar ice and a coolly efficient manner of conducting himself. He tended to wear the type of white lab coats so often associated with scientists and was rarely found without a pair of surgical gloves on his hands.

Doc Pemberley�s appearance generally caused people to believe he was a hard-working man dedicated to science. The truth was a good bit more sinister. Pemberley was completely amoral. Where the average person would cringe, Pemberley stared unabashed. When a normal man would rush in to save those in need, Pemberley was more apt to pick up a sheet of paper and begin recording the events occurring before him.

And then there was the peculiar interest in the macabre.

Doc Pemberley was not only a world-class authority on scientific matters, he was also an amateur occultist, with a collection of books that would be the envy of almost any parapsychologist in the world. Even the good men and women at Miskatonic University would have been impressed by his holdings. He had several books that had been personally bound by the infamous Felix Cole, whose skills in handling the works of the damned were impeccable.

The combination of good looks, remarkable intelligence and a total lack of morals made Doc Pemberley a very, very dangerous man.

With Sovereign City�s notoriously revolving door prison policy, Pemberley had been sure he�d be back on the streets within hours after his last arrest� but it hadn�t happened. The judges that owed him favors were either out of jobs or no longer considered Pemberley worthy of notice.

He�d stewed in his cell for months now, still bitter over the way that Lazarus Gray and Morgan Watts had treated him.[2]

In Pemberley�s mind, Gray was a fool of the highest order, believing that he and his cohorts could bring about lasting change to Sovereign. He failed to understand that Sovereign was corrupting at its very core. Pemberley was not alone in his belief that there was something in the very air of Sovereign, something that inspired acts of depravity. Men and women who in other places would have been fine, upstanding citizens, found themselves unable to control their darker impulses in this place.

Pemberley loved Sovereign, regarding it as the perfect laboratory for his frequent experimentation. No matter how many times he�d been exiled from the city, he�d always returned, drawn back like a moth to a flame.

The doctor sat alone in his cell, thinking these dark thoughts, when the prison guards announced that it was lights out. Pemberley was forbidden to have cellmates after several of them had come to mysterious ends. He sometimes found this disturbing, since he did enjoy a good conversation, but he also enjoyed the freedom it gave him. Away from all prying eyes, he could proceed with his private works.

As soon as darkness had descended, Pemberley was off his bunk and crouching against the back wall. There, secreted in a tiny hole, were the implements that would give him his freedom once more.

The objects had been scavenged from throughout the prison, with a few key components snuck in to him by his lawyer. He spread them out on the floor of his cell, carefully drawing a pentagram with a piece of chalk. Each of the items was then carefully placed at strategic places along the symbol.

He sat back on his heels and closed his eyes. He�d been performing this same ritual for three nights now, each time feeling like he was getting closer and closer to attracting the attention of someone who could help. The words he whispered dated back to lost Lemuria and were forgotten by all but a desperate few.

The temperature in the prison began to drop appreciably and a soft wind began to blow, carrying with it the moan of a banshee. The guards who walked their rounds did so a little quicker tonight and the hardened criminals they watched over pulled their sheets tighter around their bodies.

Pemberley fell silent, sensing that he was no longer alone in his cell. Without opening his eyes, he licked his lips and asked, �Who�s there?�

�Someone who has answered your call, my friend. I�ve heard it each night this week but wasn�t sure I should respond. But anyone who is so eager to risk their soul for assistance is worthy of my time, I�d say.� The stranger�s voice was male and slightly mocking. A foul odor accompanied the words, as if the figure�s mouth contained the remnants of rotting vegetables.

Pemberley started to open his eyes but he felt a cold hand come across his face and he froze.

�Don�t bother looking at me. It�s best for the both of us, believe me.�

With a pounding heart, Pemberley asked, �Are you going to help me escape from here?�

�I can do that,� the man confirmed, removing his hand from the doctor�s face. �But the bigger question: What are you offering me in return?�

�My soul?�

The mysterious figure laughed and the sound of it echoed through the prison, giving nightmares to all who heard it. Even Pemberley felt his bowels loosen and he feared that he might lose control. �Your soul was given away long ago, Melvin. You�ll have to do better than that.�

�What do you want? I�ll give you anything.�

There was a long pause before the stranger put his hands on Pemberley�s shoulders. �You should watch your mouth, Doc� You have a way of letting it get ahead of yourself. But I�ll take you up on that deal.�

Doc Pemberley felt himself suddenly whisked away. He barely had time to scream in surprise before he was dropped hard onto the rain-slicked streets of Sovereign. He looked around but saw that he was alone, the only lingering sign of the entity who had helped him being a dark chuckle that carried on the wind.

Samantha Grace felt woozy, her hands extending out to steady herself against the black roadster. She wore a form-fitting black dress and high heels, her long blonde hair piled high atop her head. Her perfectly manicured appearance was marred only by the glazed look in her eyes and the slightly nervous motions of her body.

�Calm down, Miss Wilkes. Take a load off and you�ll feel better,� her companion whispered. He clutched her by the elbow, steering her into the passenger seat of his car. He was calling her by her false name for the evening � Claire Wilkes. His identity was that of Philip Hawthorne, a grossly fat man with beady eyes and a penchant for ill-fitting suits. He was one of Sovereign�s most disgusting men, for he dealt in the most terrible commodity of all: human lives. He seduced young women with drink, drugs and money, leading them into the seedy underworld of prostitution and sexual slavery. It was believed that some of his girls were even sold to faraway points in the Orient, while others were pawned off to a shadowy figure called Leviathan.

Samantha heard Hawthorne shut the passenger side door and a moment later he was seated next to her, starting the car. They�d had dinner at Luigi�s, a rather high-class Italian restaurant. There had been something in her food or her wine, leaving her feeling confused and a bit nauseous. Her aim this evening had been to find a way back to the man�s apartment, where she would find evidence confirming their client�s suspicion� but now it looked like things were taking a turn for the worse.

Two days ago a man named Bo Davidson had arrived at the Assistance Unlimited headquarters on Robeson Avenue, telling Lazarus Gray that his sister had vanished after going on a date with Hawthorne. Davidson had been concerned about meeting what he assumed would be Gray�s exorbitant fees but he was soon told the truth about the operation: that no client was ever asked to pay more than they could afford.

The decision to send one of Assistance Unlimited�s female members into harm�s way was a relatively simple one, though there had been some disagreement about whether or not it should include Samantha or Abigail on the mission. In the end, Samantha�s experience won out, though it hadn�t helped her avoid being drugged.

The roadster purred steadily down the streets of Sovereign. The full moon in the sky was partially obscured by clouds and the scent of rain hung thick in the air. Sovereign always seemed to be somewhere between a full-on deluge and a brief respite before another storm rolled into town.

Samantha�s head lolled against the side of her door, the wind whistling past her window. �Need to stop,� she said, slurring her words.

�Don�t worry, dear. I�ll take good care of you.� Hawthorne�s hand snaked out and touched her knee. His fingers slid the edge of her skirt higher and higher, until her stockings could be seen. He licked his lips, alternating his eyes between the road and the delectable prize to his right.

As he turned his car down a side street, he slammed on the brakes, cursing loudly. His hand left its place on Samantha�s thigh and he exited the vehicle in a huff, leaving Samantha to peer blearily through the windshield. Another car was parked across the center of the street, blocking both lanes. As Samantha watched, the driver and the passenger both emerged from their vehicle, coming to stand side-by-side.

Hawthorne�s voice reached her ears and though she was confused, she could hear the anger in his voice. �What�s wrong with you two? Get out of the road before I run you over!�

Samantha leaned forward, suddenly recognizing the two men in the street. The taller of the two was Lazarus Gray, dressed in a well-tailored suit and tie. His hair contained as much silver as brown, making him appear older than he truly was, but his firm jaw and handsome face was enough to make any young woman�s heart skip a beat. Samantha certainly wasn�t immune to his charms, carrying a torch for him that burned quite brightly. Lazarus had founded Assistance Unlimited after his previous identity of Richard Winthrop had �died,� allowing him to cast off the shackles of the past and become someone new.

The shorter man beside Lazarus was Eun Jiwon, a Korean immigrant who had joined Assistance Unlimited after his parents had fallen prey to one of Sovereign City�s protection rackets. Eun was handsome but so filled with anger that he was rarely seen without a grimace on his face. He was a master of the martial arts and never missed an opportunity to show off his abilities.

The world began to swirl again and Samantha�s eyes fluttered. The last thing she saw before the world went black was a flutter of movement, as if a majestic bird was taking flight.

Eun Jiwon didn�t bother waiting for a signal from Lazarus. They�d both spotted Samantha�s drugged form in the passenger seat of Hawthorne�s car and the sight had stirred a large amount of rage in the Korean�s heart. Everyone on the team loved Samantha, whether they desired her as a lover or merely felt for her as a sister� and the mere thought of her falling prey to a disgusting brute like Hawthorne was enough to stir any of them to fury.

Eun leaped into the air, driving a booted foot into Hawthorne�s chin. The big man went flying back, landing hard on the asphalt. Blood oozed from the back of his head and he groaned.

Eun stalked closer, planning to finish off Hawthorne with a quick punch to the forehead. To his astonishment, however, the larger man swept his leg between the young Korean�s, knocking Eun off his feet. With amazing quickness for one so large, Hawthorne was up onto his knees, raining punches down upon Eun�s face. Though the young man was able to block most of them, some got through and within seconds, he was seeing stars.

Lazarus was not one to stand idly by, especially when it was one of his aides in danger. He�d known that Hawthorne was a deadly opponent who used his bulk to great advantage � unfortunately, Eun had apparently not paid attention during the briefing process.

Lazarus descended upon Hawthorne and grabbed him by the collar. Despite the fact that Hawthorne outweighed Lazarus by at least one hundred pounds, the big man was lifted easily into the air. Lazarus stared him down with his infamous gaze: one eye was a dull brown, the other a stunning emerald.

�Your days of hurting women are over,� Lazarus hissed.

Hawthorne�s hands fumbled with the pockets of his jacket and Lazarus threw him aside. As soon as the big man hit the ground, Lazarus drove an elbow into the back of the man�s head. It took three blows to knock the villain out.

Lazarus did a quick but thorough search of Hawthorne�s pockets, producing a small pistol and a vial containing some colorless drug. He dropped both of these into his own coat and then checked on Eun, who was rising unsteadily, blood oozing from a split lip and a swelling nose.

�Sorry, Chief, guess I let my emotions get the best of me.�

Lazarus gave Eun a pat on the shoulder and then went to Hawthorne�s car. There was no need to rake Eun over the coals for his mistake � the young man would do that enough on his own.

Samantha stirred as Lazarus lifted her into his arms. Her glazed eyes fixed on his and she smiled wanly. �My hero,� she deadpanned, eliciting an extremely rare grin from Lazarus.

�You did very well, Samantha,� he said, cradling her close. �This is one predator who won�t torment anyone ever again.�

Morgan Watts adjusted his tie and wished that he had a drink. Visiting a prison was never his favored activity. He had spent altogether too much time in jail cells during his lengthy career as a confidence man and being back here now not only reminded him of those days but also made him an easy target for the incarcerated who viewed him as a traitor. He tried to ignore their shouted insults but he�d have been a liar of the highest order to pretend that they didn�t bother him.

�You okay, Morgan?�

Morgan glanced over at his companion and smiled. Abigail Cross was a buxom brunette from the Deep South with a talent for the supernatural. Her accent was honey-smooth and enough to melt the hearts of even a hardened criminal. As she sauntered through the prison in her tight-fitting black dress and boots, the shouted insults quickly began to turn into catcalls.

�Just remembering how close I came to being a Lifer in a place like this. Makes me glad that I met Lazarus and turned my life around.�

Abby nodded as if she understood but Morgan wondered if she really did. It was hard to truly empathize with someone when his or her life was so completely different from your own.

The warden, a stout man with an unsightly complexion, was waiting for them by Doc Pemberley�s cell. He didn�t look pleased to see them and for Morgan, the feeling was mutual. Warden Matthews was corrupt, taking bribes for a wide variety of things within the prison walls. Morgan and the rest of Assistance Unlimited were well aware of this but unable to prove anything substantial.

Matthews frowned severely when he saw Abby. He turned immediately to Morgan and lowered his voice, �This is absolutely no place for a woman. Not only is it indecent of you to subject her to these sorts of comments but the impact upon our male population will be severe.�

Before Morgan could respond, Abby had reached out and touched the warden�s arm. He jumped like his flesh had been singed and his eyes widened as Abby began speaking. Morgan didn�t think she was using any actual magic on the old man � rather, she was calling upon the sort of spell that any beautiful young woman could work when needed. �I�m sorry but I did insist on coming. The awful things those men have been saying don�t bother me in the least. Knowing that men like you and your guards are here to protect me leaves me feeling as snug as a bug!�

Morgan stifled a grin as he saw the warden melting before his eyes. Abby and Samantha were very different in how they used their beauty � Samantha was the sort who was just as much at home in slacks as she was in a dress. She had the kind of wholesome girl-next-door beauty that made every man want to take her to the dance� but Abby was different. She dressed to emphasize her curves and she had a way of leaning forward while she talked, pushing her ample cleavage towards whatever man she was speaking to� Combine that with her Southern accent and you had a dangerous package.

�Well, of course you�re safe. I just meant that most of these men haven�t seen a woman in months or years. You might stir them to violence.�

�Aren�t you just the sweetest ol� thing,� Abby said, playfully swatting the warden on the chest. He blushed furiously and cleared his throat.

Morgan had stepped into the empty cell by now. His eyes took in the scene and he chewed his bottom lip. He had grown to really dislike the supernatural more and more, it seemed that Assistance Unlimited couldn�t escape it. Were they drawn to it somehow or was the entire world just fraying at the edges, letting the dark things scamper into the light? He didn�t know and, ultimately, he didn�t care. He just wished it would all go away.

�Abby, if you�re done with the warden, could you step in here, please?�

Abby pulled herself away from the warden, who remained where he was, watching the two of them with curious and suspicious eyes. She knelt down next to the drawings on the floor, letting her fingertips brush over the items arrayed along the devil�s star. �He summoned something. Probably bartered with it in return for his freedom.�

Morgan bent at the waist and whispered, �You mean some kind of demon?�

�Most likely.� She looked up at Morgan. �Whatever was here, it was powerful. I can still sense it in the air.�

�Can you trace it somehow? Figure out where he might have gone?�

Abby snatched up some of the objects that Pemberley had left behind. �I think there�s enough residual energy on these that I can do that back at headquarters.�

�Why not do it here, at the source?�

Abby glanced over at the watching guards and the warden. �I don�t practice the same sort of magic that was done here. Some of my spells require hand or verbal gestures but others are more intensive. My way of tracing this energy� I don�t think it would go over too well in the prison.�

�It�s dangerous?�

�No. It just requires me to be naked.� Abby stood up and dropped the objects into the pocket of Morgan�s coat.

The warden was staring at Morgan when the members of Assistance Unlimited exited the cell. �Did I just see you palming evidence?�

�I�m innocent. She did it.�

�I don�t care who did it! It�s not right!�

Morgan patted the warden on the arm. �You called us, remember? So why don�t you let us do our jobs. We�ll be in touch.�

The warden watched open-mouthed as Morgan and Abby strode through the hall. Someday those arrogant clods from Assistance Unlimited would get their comeuppance. He just hoped that he�d live long enough to see it.

The headquarters of Assistance Unlimited was located at 6196 Robeson Avenue. Lazarus Gray had purchased all three of the buildings that lay on this city block, transforming what had once been an unassuming neighborhood into the beating heart of his enterprise. The centerpiece of his holdings was a three-story structure that had once been a hotel. Gray�s three associates used the first floor, while the second had been gutted and converted into one large room that was used for meetings, briefings and research. The third floor was off-limits to everyone but Gray himself and was his private domicile.

Across the street were several storefronts owned by Lazarus, all of which had closed down at the dawn of the Great Depression.

Lazarus stood in the team�s briefing room, his eyes fixed to a map of Sovereign City that had been hung on the wall. Here and there colored pins had been inserted into various city blocks, allowing the members of Assistance Unlimited to keep track of their various investigations. Now that the Hawthorne matter had been concluded, they were down to nine active cases, including the Pemberley disappearance.

Jakob Sporrenberg was away at the moment, investigating a series of kidnappings in the Chinatown district and Samantha had been told to take a couple of days off so that the drugs in her system could fade. That still left a relatively full contingent of members at Gray�s disposal, however.

Morgan, Abby and Eun were all seated around the meeting room table, talking quietly about the Pemberley matter. Lazarus was only vaguely aware of the content of their words. He felt like something was building in Sovereign and had been for quite some time: like all the weirdness in the city was beginning to take its toll. Not long ago, a witch had predicted death for all of Gray�s companions and Lazarus had heard those words before: they haunted his dreams and even some of his waking hours. Was it related to the ongoing doom and gloom that he felt with regards to the city?

�Chief?�

Lazarus turned his head, realizing that Morgan had asked him a question. �I�m sorry, Morgan. Could you repeat that?�

�Abby said she�s got a lead on where Pemberley might have gone. I was wondering who you wanted to send to check it out � or if you wanted to do it yourself."

After considering the matter, Lazarus said, "We shouldn't underestimate our old enemy. I think we should leave one member here to coordinate our operations and the rest can check out Pemberley."

"In that case, all of you can go." Samantha stood in the doorway, looking pale but strong. "I can handle things at the office."

"You shouldn't be out of bed," Morgan murmured with disapproval.

"I'm not a China doll," Samantha peevishly answered. "I think I can manage the telephone in my delicate condition."

Morgan knew better than to argue that point. He leaned back in his seat and deferred to Lazarus, knowing that his employer was the only one capable of talking sense into Samantha's pretty little head.

Lazarus, however, didn't seem interested in doing so. "Thank you, Samantha. Abby, where are we headed?"

Abigail stood up and approached the map. She studied it for a few seconds and then tapped an area known as Holly Falls. It had once been a prosperous family-style community, centered around a small waterfall. But after a series of child rapes and murders at the turn of the century, Holly Falls fell into disfavor. It was now home to only a few lower-income families and opium addicts.

"That's where he went," Abby said. "But I don't know that he's still there."

Lazarus nodded. "It's a start. Let's go. Samantha, we'll be in touch via our radio communicators."

Wishing she could be going with them, Samantha headed to the radio monitoring station. She offered Morgan a smile of apology, and he winked in return.

Holly Falls was a creepy place, Samantha thought. She hoped that her friends didn't run into too much trouble.

Doc Pemberley had made a mistake.

He had realized that as soon as his feet had touched down on the streets of Holly Falls. The entity he had summoned was powerful � and canny. While gaining his freedom had been vital, Pemberley was now at the whims of a mysterious master, one whose ultimate goals were unknown.

In order to stem the rising tide of fear that threatened to engulf him, Pemberley had found his way to a local dive known as The Widow�s Peak. It catered to men like himself, who wanted to drink in private, without too many prying eyes. As such, entrance was given only to those to whom the proprietors were well acquainted.

Pemberley had drunk heavily for a few hours, promising to use his skills in whatever capacity the owners desired. It was another devil�s bargain but what choice did he have? He had no money and his face was well known around Sovereign. He needed a place to hide until the heat could die down.

Gratefully accepting a room on the second floor of the tavern, Pemberley had fallen into a deep sleep. It was anything but refreshing, however. Dark visions haunted his dreams: a man dressed in scarlet, lurking in the shadows; a woman whose face dripped like wax; and the omnipresent threat of Lazarus Gray, who had foiled Pemberley time and again.

When he woke up, with his heart pounding in his chest, Pemberley was startled to see that he was no longer alone. A woman sat in the only piece of furniture in the tattered room: a straight-backed chair that smelled of sweat and urine. She wore a black dress and veil, looking like she�d stepped in on her way to a funeral. Her gloved hands twisted a handkerchief and she kept her face turned away from him, preventing him from seeing through the mesh of her veil.

�Who are you?� Pemberley demanded, sitting up and drawing away from the woman.

�My name is Constance,� she answered in a genteel voice that put Pemberley at ease. �And I�m dreadfully sorry for having entered while you slept� but I wasn�t sure you would see me otherwise. I understand that you�re a physician of great skill.�

�I am. Do you have need of one?� Pemberley was on better footing now: he knew that anyone who sought him out was desperate and most likely on the run from the authorities. That meant that he held the power and could profit quite nicely.

�Badly.� Constance leaned forward and Pemberley smelled something foul emanating from beneath her veil. It reminded him of putrification. �A few years ago, I had the misfortune of crossing paths with Lazarus Gray and his Assistance Unlimited. I was left with a criminal record and a horrible affliction.�

�If you�re looking for plastic surgery, I can do that. I�ve given new faces to more men than I can count.�

�But can you make me beautiful again? I don�t want to just be� no longer a monster� I want to be desirable again.�

Constance set aside her handkerchief and produced a small photograph. She gave it to Pemberley, who stared at it with appreciation. The woman in the photograph was certainly attractive, with full lips and dark eyes. Her high cheekbones gave her an aristocratic look, which was doubly emphasized by the haughty expression on her face.

Swallowing, Pemberley look up and said, �I�ll need to see the extent of the damage.�

Constance nodded, her demeanor becoming one of extreme reluctance.

Pemberley smiled, trying to put on his best bedside manner. �Come, come. I�ve seen far worse, I�m sure.�

Constance reached up and removed her veil, revealing a visage so terrifying that Pemberley gasped and covered his mouth.

It looked like someone had thrown acid directly into her face, leaving her features a ruined mess. The tip of her nose was elongated, like a piece of dripping caramel, while her left eye no longer had a bottom lid. The pink tissue was exposed as a result. The right eye bulged like it was about to pop and her lips were nothing more than a discolored band of flesh.

That this was the woman he�d seen in his dreams was undeniable.

Gathering his wits, Pemberley cleared his throat. �Gray� did this to you?�

�I was obsessed with my appearance,� she said, her eyes brimming with tears. �My father was a chemist who had discovered that certain oils produced by virgin girls at the moment of their death could be used to stave off aging. That photograph you�re holding was taken of me when I was 43 years old.�

Pemberley looked down at the picture again, trying to imagine that the beauty he was looking at was now the horror who sat before him. In the photo, Constance looked no older than 25, if that.

Constance continued speaking, her voice growing a bit angrier with each word. �When they came into my father�s laboratory, he tried to fight them but one of them � an Oriental � kicked him, knocking him into a shelf full of chemicals. They splashed over both my father and myself. He died from his wounds but I� I was left like this. They tried to put me in jail for conspiring with my father on the murders but I had enough money that I was able to bribe a guard and escape.�

�And now you want your face back,� Pemberley said.

�Yes. And revenge.� Constance suddenly moved forward, kneeling at Pemberley�s feet. She reached up and took his hands in hers. �You and I have both been wronged by Assistance Unlimited. You have the brilliance and I have the money� we can strike back at them.�

�How?�

�By becoming their opposites. They have a group filled with members who each have a dangerous specialty. We can do the same! I�ve already recruited a few, in fact. Men and women who are ready to pit themselves against Lazarus Gray�s minions!�

Pemberley hesitated. He�d love to see Assistance Unlimited brought to their knees but going head-to-head with them didn�t seem like a bright move on his part.

Switching the topic, he reached out and touched Constance�s ruined face. �One thing at a time. First, we should focus on this.�

Constance was about to speak when the door to the room burst open. The tavern owner�s eyes were wide with fear. �They�re here! Damn you, you brought them here!�

Pemberley rose. �Who�s here?� he demanded.

�Assistance Unlimited! And now we�re all doomed!�

Lazarus Gray ignored the mutterings of the tavern owner. His companions had spread out to search the entire establishment, as they had every other public house in Holly Falls. He felt something in his bones, telling him that Pemberley was still in the area.

Over the years, he�d learned to trust his instincts.

He had wandered into the back room of the bar when he spotted a flash of movement out of the window. He moved over quickly and his eyes widened: there was Doc Pemberley, all right, though he was not alone. A woman in black was with him and they were hurrying towards a car that was parked at the end of the block.

�Outside! Now!� Lazarus shouted, not waiting for his companions. He burst out the rear exit, coming out into an alleyway. Sprinting as quickly as an Olympic athlete, Lazarus came around the side of the building, quickly gaining ground on his quarry.

Pemberley spotted him and let out a strangled cry. His fear gave the evil physician a burst of speed and he hurried past Constance, coming perilously close to her parked car.

Lazarus drove himself onward, digging for his last reserves of speed. He threw his body into the air and stretched his fingers as far as they would go. He made contact with the back of the woman�s collar and yanked her to the ground. She landed beneath him and quickly began fighting like a hellcat.

Lazarus pinned her arms down and caught a whiff of something foul from beneath her veil. He barely had time to wonder at its source when Pemberley�s foot slammed into the side of his jaw. The cowardly doctor had come back for the woman not out of any real sense of chivalry but because Constance had the keys to the car.

It took a few seconds for Lazarus to regain his bearings and in that time Pemberley dragged Constance to her feet. They were just getting into their car when a series of bullets began to riddle the vehicle�s side. Morgan Watts was an ace shot but he failed to hit the tires before Constance slammed her high-heel against the accelerator. The car left skid-marks on the road as it rocketed forward.

Morgan lowered his pistol and muttered a series of curses as Eun and Abby ran to his side. They had been on the second floor when Gray�s shout had come and even with their speed, they�d arrived too late to be of any help.

Eun slammed a fist into the palm of his other hand. �I knew we should have left somebody outside in case they made a break for it!�

Lazarus, sporting a bruise on his jaw, walked towards them. �I was supposed to be watching for such a thing,� he said. �And I obviously didn�t do a good enough job.�

�Nobody�s perfect, Chief. Not even me.� Morgan grinned and Abby laughed at her friend�s humor.

Lazarus, however, was not laughing at all. Something about that woman seemed disturbingly familiar. And if his suspicions were correct, then Sovereign City was in terrible danger.

666 Holder Way was in the most desolate area of town and given Sovereign�s reputation, that was saying quite a lot. The streets were lined with prostitutes and drug pushers, along with mobsters who wore their guns openly. The few police who drove through the area were all on the take and even luminaries such as Doc Daye, The Dark Gentleman or Fortune McCall entered the region with caution.

Pemberley parked the car in a covered garage next to a decrepit looking brownstone. The windows were boarded up, there were bloodstains on the front steps and a crudely lettered sign warned �No Trespassers� on the front door. The vile doctor eyed the structure with obvious trepidation.

�Have no fear, Doctor, the interior will be more to your liking.� Constance unlocked the front door with a peculiar-looking key and Pemberley noticed that beneath their feet were a series of shining plates, like marble.

�What is this?� he asked, tapping at the plates with the toe of his shoe.

�They�re electrified. If someone so much as touches the front door without inserting my key first, they�ll be burned to a crisp.�

�Sounds a bit� over the top,� Pemberley said with a dry mouth. �Aren�t you afraid of accidentally killing someone who just comes along and knocks?�

Constance gestured to the surrounding streets, with their plethora of scum and villainy. �There are no Girl Scouts selling their wares here, Doctor. Anyone who is here is a threat.�

Constance led him inside and Pemberley failed to hide his shock. True to her word, the interior of the place was nothing at all like the exterior. The thick carpet on the floor was luxurious and the paintings on the wall were expensive originals. Everything that Pemberley could see was exquisite� and very, very pricey.

�Welcome to the headquarters of Murder Unlimited, Doctor. Would you like to meet your fellow agents?�

Pemberley nodded slowly. �Yes,� he said, feeling suddenly much more confident about their chances of success than he had a few moments before. �I think that I would.�

The membership of Murder Unlimited was soon assembled in a meeting room dominated by a circular oak table. Pemberley had been introduced by Constance first and he�d blushed a bit as she�d laid out his qualifications for membership: �Doctor Pemberley is one of the foremost surgeons and experimental scientists of our day. The full list of his accomplishments would take hours to share but suffice to say that he has worked for every major power broker in the underworld and he is wanted by every police force this side of Scotland Yard.�

Constance then gestured to the others in the room, introducing them one by one.

The first was an aristocratic woman dressed in Egyptian finery. With her lustrous black hair, dark eyes and beautiful figure, she looked like every description of Cleopatra that Pemberley had ever read. �This,� said Constance with a slight bow, �is Princess Femi, resurrected from beyond the grave. Cursed to a terrible state of Undeath by the priests of her time, she has been restored to life twice in the past few years, only to be returned to dust each time by Lazarus Gray.[3] She is able to turn men into shambling creatures of death, bound to her will.�

Femi smiled at Pemberley and he shivered to see that her mouth was filled with sharp teeth, obviously meant for tearing human flesh. She inclined her head in greeting, hissing out the words �God is dead,� to which Pemberley responded with a thumb�s up. He had no idea why she had said it, but he wasn�t one to judge.

To Femi�s left was a thin man dressed all in a black suit and tie. He was bald and a thin line of scars across his pale dome was clear evidence that he�d been the recipient of some sort of procedure on his brain. The man held a small saltshaker in his right hand and as Pemberley watched, he shook a few grains of salt into his palm. Like a cat, he licked them up, murmuring slightly as he did so.

Constance seemed to be relishing her role as host and Pemberley heard the pleasure in her voice as she introduced the bald man. �This is Abraham Klee. Born in Sovereign, his father was the notorious Dr. Adolphus Klee. Arrested for his various experiments upon the brains of the city�s dregs, Dr. Klee had one tremendous success: his own son. Thanks to a surgery performed when Abraham was only three years old, he is now able to tap into a full 90�% of his brain�s capability, as opposed to the 10�% that most of use. As a result, he�s faster and able to process information at an unbelievable rate.�

Pemberley nodded, impressed. Adolphus Klee had been one of his greatest inspirations.

The final member of the group was a heavyset man with a goatee. He wore a threadbare coat with patches on the elbows and a dingy white shirt and slacks. He seemed completely uninterested in the discussion, instead focusing on a newspaper clipping held in his right hand. �And this,� Constance said, �is Stanley Davis. He possesses a form of clairvoyance that allows him to focus his attention on an object or picture and glean details about the person who owned it, or is depicted in it. It�s not full-proof but sometimes his insights are quite interesting.�

�Indeed they are,� Stanley said, looking up at Pemberley. He turned the newspaper clipping around and the doctor saw that it was a photo of himself, along with an account of his first arrest. �You�re a very naughty boy, Melvin. You do enjoy your work, don�t you?�

Pemberley colored, feeling uncomfortable under the fat man�s gaze. Stanley laughed at his discomfort.

�So you see,� Constance continued, �That we�re quite a dangerous bunch. My money bankrolls it all, Femi provides us an army of the undead, Abraham is our fighter and assassin, and Stanley is our psychic.�

�And me?�

�You�re our physician and scientist. Not to mention your many contacts with the underworld.�

�And our sole purpose is to destroy Assistance Unlimited?�

�Well� yes and no,� Constance admitted. Before she could continue, Klee spoke up.

�We all want to see Lazarus Gray and his gang in a set of early graves but Constance�s money only stretches so far. We�ve been hiring ourselves out. The Morretti killing a week or two back? That was me, hired by The Monster to do in a gangster who owed him money. And Femi there put the shakedown on a few city councilmen, making sure they�d vote the way another client of us wanted them to.�

Femi made a dismissive noise. �You make me sound like a common criminal. I sent several of my followers to do the unseemly business.�

�Whatever,� Klee said with a grin. �The point is, we�re doing for the underworld what Gray does for the legit society: helpin� them out.�

Constance reached out and squeezed Pemberley�s hand. �But now that you�re on board, I think we�ve filled out our roster. We�ll resume taking normal jobs once our main task has been fulfilled: it�s time for Assistance Unlimited to pay for all that they�ve done!�

Pemberley surprised even himself with the vehemence of his response. �Yes! Let�s do it! Let�s kill them all!�

For so long, he�d been on the run, an outcast from society. At best, he was a barely-accepted flunky for more powerful men. But here, with Murder Unlimited, he was surrounded by like-minded souls. Here, he was a valued equal� and that gave him the confidence that he needed to swear vengeance on his enemies.

�Good,� Constance cooed. �Then let�s begin Operation: Lazarus in earnest.�

�Constance Majestros. Melvin Pemberley. Abraham Klee. All three are wanted felons. All three are currently loose in Sovereign. And I believe that all three might be working together.� Lazarus tapped the trio of photographs pinned on the wall. The entire Assistance Unlimited team was assembled around the meeting room table, including Sporrenberg, who had returned from his own investigation.

�What makes you think Klee is involved with the others?� the German asked.

�Just over a week ago, I heard from a friend in the police force that Klee had been spotted in the company of a veiled woman. Given how Constance was dressed today, I don�t think it�s a tremendous leap of logic to assume that she�s the person he was with. Now we have to ask ourselves why they would be joining forces. None of them is known to be a mastermind� in the past, all three have worked in service to others.�

Samantha leaned forward. She looked stronger than she had earlier in the day, a living testimony to the skills of Assistance Unlimited�s physician, Doctor Hancock. �Maybe they�ve banded together for protection?�

�That�s what I was thinking,� Sporrenberg said. �They know we�re on to them so what do they have to lose?�

Lazarus nodded slowly, his miscolored eyes � one a dull brown, the other an emerald green � flashing with some inner realization. �Klee is something of a unique individual. His father conducted a series of experiments to enhance his hand/eye coordination. But a side effect was that his sodium levels are frequently a problem. He has to intake large amounts of salt � nearly six times what a normal man could handle.�

Abby took the bait. �So we need to track huge purchases of salt?�

Lazarus nodded, pointing at Eun. �When your parents ran their grocery store, you developed contacts with most of the grocers in the city, correct?�

The young Korean grinned. �This won�t take long at all, Chief. I�ll have your answer within the hour.�

�Good. While Eun�s working on that, I want Abby and Morgan to go through the newspaper clipping room. Find anything that might reference Constance, Klee or Pemberley, so that we can get a handle on their plans.�

As everyone jumped into action, Sporrenberg and Samantha were left behind with Lazarus. The team�s leader sat down and looked at each. �I have plans for you two, as well,� he said.

The German smiled, his handsome face lighting up the room. �Ja?�

�Jakob, I want you to kill someone for me.�

Two hours later, a disguised Jakob Sporrenberg was perched on the top of The Acme Motor Company, a sharpshooter rifle in his hands. His eye was pressed against the targeting scope and he stared intently at the street below, waiting for his target to appear.

Right on cue, Samantha Grace stepped out of Vincent�s Haberdashery, a shopping bag clutched in her left hand. She paused at the curb, as if to summon a taxi, but when her right hand waved in the air, she was actually sending a message to Sporrenberg.

Jakob lined up the shot, feeling a twinge of guilt run through him. The gun was filled with blanks and Samantha was merely to activate a blood packet in her blouse but it still felt weird pretending to shoot a friend.

Though he�d be hesitant to say it out loud, that was indeed the truth. Though he�d been an agent of Hitler�s SS, the men and women of Assistance Unlimited had seen fit to trust him. In doing so, they had become part of a very small grouping: those that Jakob considered more than mere allies. They were friends and family.

Even so, his loyalty to Lazarus was strong enough that Jakob pulled the trigger. The sound of a gunshot filled the air, causing a car to swerve on the street and everyone to stop where they were.

Samantha cried out, playing her part perfectly. She fell backwards, a huge red stain blooming across her chest. She landed partially on her side, her beautiful blue eyes fluttering as bystanders rushed to her aid.

Jakob stood up, pausing long enough for someone to notice him. Men pointed up at him, shouting curses and Jakob resisted the urge to smile. He wore a skullcap that made him appear bald, a series of scars crisscrossing the false scalp. When the descriptions came in to the police, there would be no doubt that the police and the press would quickly identify the shooter as Abraham Klee.

Lazarus had already arranged with Doctor Hancock to take Samantha into his care at St. Mercy�s Hospital, a fact that would be slipped into the newspapers as well. It was Gray�s belief that a man as prideful as Klee would be drawn out by all this, potentially leading the heroes back to his compatriots.

When a jaunty salute to the horrified crowd, Sporrenberg moved away from the rooftop�s edge. He was already stripping out of his disguise and by the time his feet touched down on the sidewalk a few moments later, he looked nothing at all like the man who had just shot Samantha Grace.

When the evening edition hit the streets, Abraham Klee was among the first to get a copy. He threw it down on the table in front of Constance, his harsh face twisted in fury. �What the hell�s going on here? I didn�t shoot that girl!�

Constance picked up the paper and scanned the article. Though her features were hidden beneath her veil, the sour smell of decomposition lingered in the air, causing Klee to keep his distance. �Mistaken identity,� she ventured, drawing a snort from the bald man.

Gesturing to the scars on his cranium, Klee asked, �You really think there are a lot of people out there like this?�

�Good point.� Constance folded the paper and set it in her lap. �We have a plan. This can�t distract us. In the end, it doesn�t matter. We plan to kill all of them anyway.�

�I don�t like having the quality of my work besmirched like this. People know that I don�t screw up hits. If I shoot somebody, they�re dead. It�s that simple. This makes me look bad.�

�And what would you like to do about it?�

�First: go the hospital and kill her. Second: find out who looks like me and kill him, too.�

Constance sighed. When she�d been prettier, she would have batted her eyelashes, flashed a little cleavage and gotten Klee wrapped around her little finger. But the look and smell of her face made it harder to use her feminine wiles, despite the fact that her figure was still to die for. �Abe, please listen to yourself. You�re talking about risking everything we�ve been working towards, just because your pride is taking a beating. Let it go. When all is said and done, we�ll be known as the people who killed Assistance Unlimited. That�s going to do more good for your reputation than killing a hospitalized girl ever would!�

Klee took a deep breath and nodded, turning away from her. �You�re right. I�m sorry.�

�Don�t apologize,� she said, calling after him. �Just know that you�ll have time to deal with that later. All right?�

Klee exited the room, saying nothing in response. He knew she was right but he couldn�t help it. One side effect of his surgeries had been that he found it difficult to control his immediate impulses.

Someone was trying to make him look bad and he couldn�t sit aside and do nothing in response, no matter how much it might jeopardize the plans of his associates.

He was going to that hospital� and Samantha Grace was going to die for good.

Pemberley stared at the blood cells under his microscope and felt his heart skip a beat. Femi had consented to a full examination and the more he learned about the workings of her body, the more excited he became.

When he sat up, he noticed that the Egyptian princess was still as nude as she had been during the examination. He�d offered her a gown to wear but she�d shrugged it away, stating that she was not ashamed of her body.

Pemberley could understand why.

Femi was lovely beyond compare and it was only the coldness of her features and eyes that kept her from being impossible to resist. Her breasts were full and desirable, with what he thought was a bit of rouge added to the nipples to enhance their color. Her stomach was flat, guiding the eye down to her mound of Venus, which she made no attempt to hide.

Pemberley realized that she was aware of his staring and he cleared his throat, tugging at a collar that was suddenly too tight. �These tests are mind-boggling,� he said, averting his eyes from her body. �The rate of decay in your cells is much slower than in a normal human. In fact, there seems to be actual regeneration going on! I think that we might be able to use your blood as the basis for a serum that could increase life spans indefinitely! And I think that Constance�s condition might be helped by a transfusion of your blood, as well.�

Femi curled her lips into a smile. �Is that what sets your blood racing, Melvin? All this talk of� science?� Femi let the fingertips of her right hand trace the gap between her breasts. �Are you not a man, as well?�

Pemberley swallowed, his mouth growing dry. �Of course I am.�

�Then why don�t you touch me?�

Pemberley extended a hand, tentatively touching her breast. She placed her palm over his hand, encouraging him to be bolder. �Femi,� he whispered.

�Hush,� she said, amusement illuminating her eyes. �She leaned into him, the heat of her sex radiating out from her, enveloping him. �I am a creature of strong passions, Melvin. Can you withstand them?�

Pemberley answered by kissing her hard. He grunted when she shoved him back against his table, her inhuman strength being used to rip his belt in half. She tore off the button of his slacks, as well, and Pemberley nervously wondered what on earth he had stumbled into.

Night fell upon Sovereign City, bringing with it a chilly rain that soaked the bones of the unfortunate few whose business carried them out into streets. Morgan was pleased to be inside, though the task at hand left him tense and worried.

Dressed as a hospital orderly, he was stationed on the hallway where Samantha was being kept. He and Eun were assigned to protect her, should their gambit to lure out Klee prove successful.

Eun was in disguise as a janitor and he sauntered past Morgan while pushing a broom across the tiled floor. Eun looked resentful of his role and Morgan couldn�t blame him. The Korean would be considered out of place in anything other than a menial role, unfortunately. Morgan wondered when the rest of the world would realize that the color of a man�s skin meant little about his value.

Morgan heard footsteps on the stairs and he pretended to be sorting several sheets set on the top of his cart. On the one hand, he craved action and was hoping to get a chance at Klee� on the other, he worried that Samantha was still hurting from the drugging she�d taken. If push came to shove, she might be hurt in an altercation.

Morgan no longer carried quite as bright a torch for the blonde member of the team as he once did but he still loved her like a sister, if not more.

The figure that emerged from the stairwell wore a wide-brimmed hat that was pulled low over his face. A long black duster covered what appeared to be a form-fitting body suit of some kind, similar to the ones wore by circus performers or gymnasts. Immediately, alarms began to sound in Morgan�s head but he did nothing, preferring to wait for confirmation that this was their target.

The stranger paused at the top of the stairs, looking up and down the hall. His gaze fell upon Eun and quickly moved away but it lingered longer on Morgan. Both he and Eun wore makeup to alter their appearances slightly, but Morgan wasn�t sure it was enough.

The man strode past Morgan, heading towards Samantha�s room. As he passed, Morgan was able to peer beneath the hat and confirm that this was indeed Abraham Klee. He was about to signal Eun to that fact when Klee twisted and drove a booted foot into Morgan�s side. The former confidence man toppled over his cart, knocking its contents to the floor.

Down at the end of the hall, Eun spun about and rushed to his friend�s aid. He threw himself into the air, intending to kick Klee in the head but the villain was like a dervish, rotating about in time to knock aside Eun�s leg. The act caused Eun to crash into the wall and he barely had time to recover before Klee was on him.

The bald man�s hat came off, dropping into his hand. Klee threw it like a Frisbee at Morgan and as it whistled through the air, light shone off the razor-sharp underside of the brim. Morgan threw up his arms, the blade cutting deep into his arms. As blood spurted from the wounds, Morgan unleashed a string of curses and yanked the hat free.

Klee, meanwhile, was continuing to use his enhanced reflexes to their fullest. Though Eun was a world-class martial artist, the young Korean quickly found himself struggling to keep up with the flurry of blows from his opponent. Klee, who had been silent through the entire conflict, seemed at ease despite the conflict�s speed and Eun knew that the battle would be over soon if he didn�t do something. Klee would simply outlast him.

Eun drove a knee into Klee�s stomach, hoping it would drive the man back. But Klee seemed unfazed by the move and instead backhanded Eun across the face. He then grabbed Eun by the ears and slammed the back of his head against the wall.

Klee then slammed his elbow behind him, catching Morgan in the chin as the older man tried to sneak up on him. Klee turned slowly, drawing back a fist as he did so. He punched Morgan in the face, knocking him out.

Klee then shrugged off his coat and brushed himself off. He wore a holster under his left shoulder and he was in the process of drawing his Mauser C96 when he heard a feminine cough.

Samantha stood in the doorway to her room, dressed in a thin hospital gown. �You live up to your reputation, Mr. Klee.�

Klee smiled coldly. �If this is meant to be a trap, I�m insulted. None of you are my equal in combat.�

Samantha shrugged. �You�re probably right. That�s why it�s a good thing I�m not going to fight you.�

Klee�s eyes widened as Samantha took a step towards him. She held a pistol in her hand and before Klee could even think about dodging, she�d fired it four times. Each shot hit home, embedding itself in Klee�s neck and chest. A single one of the tranquilizer darts were normally enough to render a full-grown man unconscious but given Klee�s fortitude, Samantha was taking no chances.

The bald man swayed on his feet before tumbling to the floor.

The first pawn had been removed from the game board: Advantage Assistance Unlimited.

Stanley Davis fussed with the threadbare collar of his coat, treating it as if it were made of the finest materials. He knew that the men and women who passed by him on the street regarded him as a panhandler but he didn�t care. Physical appearances were beneath him. He saw things on a level undreamt of by normal humans and he considered the vanity shown by others to be proof of their inferiority.

As such, the arrival of Abigail Cross did not affect him the way it did the other men surrounding him. Abby was dressed in a form-fitting white sweater and a black skirt, her high heels clicking on the sidewalk. Stanley had studied one of the few photographs he could find of the girl, sensing that she was both powerful and dangerous.

He had convinced Constance to make her target #1 for Murder Unlimited, as a result.

Davis looked up and down the street, falling into step behind Abby. The beautiful brunette had just visited the Orpheus Theatre, where she�d enjoyed a performance of Kaufman and Woollcott�s The Dark Tower. Davis had seen it already and he�d enjoyed the mystery drama quite a bit, even more than the film adaptation, The Man With Two Faces.

Though Abby could have been on the arm of any bachelor in the city, Davis knew that she enjoyed going out alone on occasion. She was fiercely independent and seemed to relish any opportunity to express that. Ironically, the way she dressed gave the opposite impression, basically calling out for male (and female) attention.

Abby rounded a corner, away from the bustling crowds, and stopped next to a silver colored roadster. It was her private car and Davis knew that she adored it.

Confident that no one was watching them, Davis rushed forward, retrieving a length of piano wire from the interior of his coat. For such a big man, he moved quite stealthily, and the wire was around her throat before she�d even recognized his presence.

The girl fought like a wild cat, thrashing madly, but Davis held on tightly. Just when it looked like she might lose consciousness, she threw up her feet and pushed her high heel hard against the door of her car. She used that to shove herself backward, knocking Davis off his feet. He landed with a grunt, Abby on top of him.

Dazed, Stanley let the piano wire slip from his fingers, allowing Abby to roll off and rise to her feet. She was unsteady on her feet and the pain in her throat made it hard for her to formulate the words she needed for a spell. Even so, Davis knew that he had only seconds to spare.

Thankfully, he was not alone.

From the alleyway, two figures shambled forward. They moved with an awkward gait and the foul odor that emanated from them gave Abby a clue as to why: these two dried-up figures were undead mummies, swathed in blood and grime-soaked bandages.

Abby saw the creatures and her eyes grew wide. Though she�d never seen them in person before, she�d heard enough stories from her teammates to recognize what they were: Princess Femi�s horrible creations, mentally enslaved to the Egyptian�s will.

Abby tried to whisper a quick spell but her voice came out in a harsh rasp and the mummies were upon her in that moment, battering her beautiful face with their fists. She fell back, her head slamming against the front bumper of her car.

The last thing she saw before the world faded to black was Davis rising to his feet, a look of supreme triumph on his face.

The score stood 1�1.

Lazarus Gray stared at the sullen face of Abraham Klee, his normally impassive features twisted in anger. �Where is she?� he asked.

Klee, tied to a chair in Assistance Unlimited�s conference room, offered a tired smile. �You have to be more precise. Who�s �she�?�

Lazarus closed his eyes, centering himself before continuing. The initial rush of having their plan work out so well had been quickly tempered by the realization that Abby had never returned home. It was now early morning and the group had been unable to contact her. Worse yet, the radioactive isotopes that each member of the team carried in their bloodstream � a last-ditch manner for Lazarus to track them[4] � seemed to be non-functioning in Abby�s case. That meant that someone knew of their methods and were circumventing them.

Lazarus crouched in front of Klee, lowering his voice. He knew that the rest of the group was waiting just outside the door, eager to find out where Abby had been taken. �You and I both know you�re dying, Klee. I can help you with that.�

Klee�s smile faded and he looked agitated. �I don�t know what you�re talking about.�

�Your father�s experiments allowed you to tap into portions of your brain that others can�t� but the price is that you�re aging too fast. Your body can�t take all the pressure you�re putting it through.�

�You don�t know that.�

�I do. I have access to the medical examinations they gave you the last time you were arrested.�

Klee snarled like an animal, fighting against his bonds. Lazarus said nothing, allowing him to tire himself. When Klee finally fell still, Lazarus continued where he�d left off. �Medical science can�t help you� but there are things in this world that can�t be explained by doctor or scientists. I was part of a group called The Illuminati. I�ve seen objects that could raise the dead� and our missing member, Abigail, is a powerful witch. I�m positive we could help you.�

�I don�t need your help.�

�Did Pemberley say he could do something for you?� A flicker of emotion went through Klee�s face and Lazarus knew that he�d hit close to home. �Or is Constance going to use her money to pay for some sort of experimental procedure?�

�You think you�re a smart guy, don�t you, Gray? But you�re not half as smart as you like to believe. Best thing you ever did was to surround yourself with men and women who were dangerous in their own right. Now that somebody else has gotten the same idea, you�re confused about what to do, aren�t you?�

�So that�s what Constance is up to? Forming her own version of Assistance Unlimited?� Klee said nothing but the way his eyes lit up confirmed Lazarus� suspicions. �Who else is involved?�

When Klee remained silent, Lazarus abruptly grabbed the man by the ears and twisted them painfully. Klee cried out in shock. �Let go!� he howled but Lazarus only increased the pressure.

�I pride myself on being better than the people I fight against,� Lazarus warned, �But when one of my friends is threatened, I�ll do whatever it takes to make sure that they�re okay. So I�m going to ask you only once more: Where is Abby and who is working with Constance? And if I think you�re holding back, I�m going to rip one of your ears off.�

�You wouldn�t�.�

Lazarus yanked on Klee�s left ear and the man screamed in response. When Lazarus released his hold on Klee�s head, both ears were a shocking red in color. �Talk.�

Klee swallowed hard. He still believed that Lazarus was bluffing but he was in no mood to test the man further. �She�s probably back at Murder Unlimited HQ � it�s over on Holder Way. The team was brought together by Constance and she�s helping to bankroll it but we�re also doing jobs on the side, offering the kind of help to criminals that you do to our victims. So far, we have myself, Constance, Doc Pemberley, some Egyptian queen named Femi and a psychic named Stanley Davis.�

Lazarus stood up, realizing just how dangerous this truly was. Any one of the people that Klee had named were deadly enough on their own but combined� they could pose a serious threat not only to Assistance Unlimited, but every innocent person in Sovereign.

He exited the room, ignoring the cries of consternation from Klee. The rest of Assistance Unlimited stood at attention when they saw him and Lazarus gestured towards Morgan. �Call the police. Tell them we have Abraham Klee and they can come pick him up. Make sure they know that we�ll be coming by when all is said and done to consult about his medical condition.�

Morgan nodded and moved away, knowing from his employer�s tone that there was no time to waste.

Lazarus regarded Samantha and Eun, his eyes narrowing. �Where�s Jakob?�

�He went to get the phone,� Samantha answered. �It rang just a moment ago.�

�I want us to get ready to roll out,� Lazarus said. �A grouping of dangerous criminals has massed on Holder Way and we need to deal with it.�

�We may not be the ones who decide how that happens,� Sporrenberg said, entering the room. His handsome face was grim and Samantha gasped, putting a hand over her mouth. She suddenly had the terrible thought that Abby might have been killed but thankfully what Sporrenberg said next was not quite that awful. �That was a woman who identified herself as Constance Majestros. She says that they have Abby and plan to kill her unless we come to McDermott Pier within the hour. She says that Lazarus isn�t allowed to come.�

Eun uttered a curse in Korean. �We�re not going to go along with that! If we know where they are, we go right now and get Abby back!�

�I agree, Chief,� Morgan said. �And we find some way to get there that they won�t be expecting. There�s an access grate not far from there that goes into the sewer. I bet we could find a way to come up right under the old warehouse that�s on the pier. That�s bound to be where they�ll be holding her.�

Lazarus looked contemplative, tapping his chin with his right forefinger. �It�s obviously a trap but I don�t see where we have any choice. Morgan, I like your line of thinking but I think we can tweak the plan a bit. Eun, you�ll come with me through the sewers. The rest of you will walk right up to the front door like they want.�

�We�re going to be the distraction for you and Eun,� Morgan realized.

�Right. It�s going to be most dangerous for all of you,� Lazarus said, looking somewhat unhappy about that part of the scheme. �But I think it�s the best course of action.�

Eun touched his employer�s sleeve. �You sure you want me with you, Chief? I mean, maybe I should be out front if that�s where the shootings likely to be.�

�It won�t be easy for us, either,� Lazarus pointed out, knowing that the young man was hesitant to let others be in harm�s way on his behalf. �And I want you and your hand-to-hand skills with me. Once we�re inside their base, there�s bound to be some combat in close quarters.�

Satisfied that Eun would do as he had been asked, Lazarus looked towards the rest of the team. For a brief moment, he thought about asking Samantha to stay behind, given the lingering effects of her drugging. But she�d done well posing as an assassination victim and she�d bristle at being left out of the dangerous affair.

�Let�s go,� he said and he was pleased to see that they quickly set about making their preparations. Not for the first time, he thought how lucky he was that the man he had once been � Richard Winthrop � had died on the shores of this city. For here he had made new friends and forged a special kind of family.

Abby groaned as consciousness returned to her. Her head throbbed something awful and a gag had been tied tightly around her face, shoved so far into her mouth that she could barely swallow. Her hands and feet were tied together, forcing her to lie on her side on the cool concrete floor of the warehouse.

The lovely brunette opened her eyes, studying the small room in which she was being kept. Though she had no idea where the building was located, it didn�t take a genius to ascertain that it was some sort of warehouse � the open door showed a large storage area, piled high with cobweb covered boxes and crates.

�Looks like sleeping beauty has awakened.�

Abby strained her neck to see the man who had spoken. It was Doc Pemberley. He wore a long white lab coat over his shirt and tie. He knelt beside her and took her pulse, nodding when he was done. �She�s got a strong metabolism. Most women wouldn�t be this alert so soon.�

Constance stepped into the room, followed by two of Femi�s shambling monsters. The veiled woman studied Abby without speaking but Abby could sense that she was unhappy about something. �She�s very pretty,� Constance said at last.

�As you will be soon,� Pemberley replied. He stood up and seemed quite pleased with himself. �Between my surgical skills and Femi�s restorative blood, you�ll be back to your old self before you know it.�

Constance turned away, shoving past the mummies. �I wish we had time to go ahead and do that, Melvin. I�m so ready.�

�It was your decision to go forward with the assault,� Pemberley pointed out. He followed Constance out of the room but Abby could still hear them quite clearly.

�Not quite. Klee forced our hand. We had a plan � take out their members one by one. By leaving Lazarus without his aides, we could then take him down by overwhelming force. But that idiot couldn�t wait!�

�Forget him,� Pemberley cautioned. �Femi�s got a dozen of these undead soldiers and Davis is convinced he�ll be able to sense Gray�s movements. We�re going to win this time. I can feel it.�

Abby rolled her eyes as she heard the hope in Constance�s voice. It was sickening listening to these two talk about the possible deaths of her friends. While they consoled one another, Abby took stock of the bonds she was tied with. Over the years, she�d found herself in similar situations, forcing her to become rather adept at escape artistry.

Despite her situation, Abby felt a sense of calm. She could free herself, given enough time. And once she was back on her feet and able to cast her spells, she was going to make all of these people pay.

She couldn�t wait.

The sewers beneath Sovereign City were every bit as disgusting as Eun had imagined. The stench was nearly unbearable, even through the bandana he�d tied around his nose and mouth. The waters were knee high in places and the foul water flowed in through the tops of his boots. He almost wished that he and his employer hadn�t outfitted themselves with industrial strength flashlights � if they�d been in the dark, Eun wouldn�t have had to see the stuff that floated by in those waters.

�You sure you don�t want something to cover your nose?� Eun asked.

Lazarus gave a curt shake of his head. He seemed unaffected by his surroundings and Eun felt a twinge of jealousy. He wished he could be so stoic sometimes.

�Chief, can I ask you something?�

�Go ahead.�

�It�s never happened but it seems inevitable. What are we going to do when one of us is killed?�

Lazarus glanced over at him. �What do you mean?�

�We all know that you prefer to bring the bad guys in alive but if we get there and Abby�s dead� Are you going to let us kill them?�

�Killing them won�t bring Abby back to life.�

�No. But with the way the legal system in Sovereign works, these guys are liable to be back on the streets again sooner rather than later. Not to mention people like Femi! She�s died at least twice so far and keeps coming back! When are we going to do whatever it takes to stop that?�

Lazarus stopped and turned his mismatched eyes upon Eun. �About Femi � I think you�re right. We need to find some way to hold her in place and then I can find a spell to keep her from returning. As for the rest of them, I�d still prefer to let the justice system run its course. You remember when we met The Peregrine and he told us about his trouble with the Law, all because he was acting as Judge, Jury and Executioner in Boston?�[5]

�Sure.�

�Then you know why we have to temper our emotions. It�s all too easy to forget that we�re not above the law. Sometimes our foes force our hand, but we should never go into a situation expecting for lethal force to be required.�

Eun fell back in step with Lazarus as the trek resumed. If anyone else had said those things to him, he would have been angry, thinking they were somehow acting better than him. But Lazarus never had that effect on him. He knew that Lazarus never judged him and rather than growing resentful, Eun always felt inspired to be a better man after their talks.

Eun had lost a lot in his life � like everyone in Assistance Unlimited. But none of their losses could compare to what Lazarus had suffered through. He�d lost his very identity and even after his memories had been partially restored, they were vague, as if they had occurred to someone else. Eun couldn�t imagine how Lazarus was able to cope.

Lazarus held up a hand, gesturing for Eun to stop. They had reached a ladder that led up to sewer grating. If their maps were correct, they should be coming up right into the basement of the never-finished warehouse.

Eun watched as Lazarus climbed the ladder and pressed against the grate. With a grunt, Lazarus was able to shove it aside and clamber out into the basement. Eun sprinted up behind him.

�Is it just me or does it stink even worse up here?� the young Korean whispered. He moved his flashlight�s beam around, illuminating the room. There was a single exit at the far end of the room, with what he guessed were stairs on the other side.

He had just risen to his feet and started in that direction when both he and Lazarus froze in place. From up above came the sounds of gunfire.

Both men ran to the door but it was Eun who reached it first. He yanked it open and started to bound up the stairs, only to draw himself up short.

He now realized why it smelled so awful in the basement. Because on the other side of the door were seven of the rotting dead, their sallow skins peeking out from behind bloodied bandages. A fat man in a threadbare suit stood behind them, looking altogether too pleased with himself.

�I knew it,� Davis hissed. �I knew you�d come in through the sewer, Lazarus Gray.� He shoved the nearest mummy in the back. �Go ahead. Kill them.�

Just moments before, Morgan Watts had stepped out from behind the wheel of his car. Sporrenberg and Samantha followed suit, having both been riding in the back. The German kept one hand under his coat, hiding the gun he was holding, while the pretty blonde was tensed, ready to throw herself to the ground if gunfire rang out.

Morgan, for his part, appeared completely at ease. He tipped his hat in the direction of the warehouse, easily spotting Constance as she leaned out to look at them.

The veiled woman yelled out, �Where is Gray?�

�Back at the home office,� Morgan replied. �You didn�t want him here, wasn�t that right?�

�Quite.�

�Good. So� we�ve done as you asked. Now you can show us Abby, so we know that you�re on the up and up.�

�What have you done with Abraham?�

�Lazarus is going to do what he can to help his condition and then we�re going to turn him into the authorities. Since he gave us so much information about your gang, though, Lazarus is going to put in a good word for him.�

�You�re lying. He wouldn�t have betrayed us.�

Morgan shrugged. �He told us that your HQ is on Holder Way and the other members of your team are Femi, Davis and Pemberley. Am I wrong about anything so far?�

Constance vanished from the window and Morgan smirked. He�d thrown her for a loop and now she was uncertain how to respond. Maybe, he mused, she�d realize that her goose was cooked and throw in the towel.

When she reappeared, she held a machine gun in her hands. She pulled the trigger, riddling the car with bullets. Both Sporrenberg and Samantha took refuge behind the vehicle, the German occasionally rising up enough to return fire.

Morgan, meanwhile, did the exact opposite thing: he sprinted towards the warehouse, lowering his shoulder so he could barrel into the front door. It gave way, the wood splintering as it did so. He tumbled into the foyer, rolling up into a crouch, a pistol having seemingly materialized out of his coat and into his hand.

Standing before him was a shocked looking Doc Pemberley. The physician held a scalpel in his left hand but he never got the chance to use it. Morgan fired three rounds, two of which found homes in the doctor�s chest. The third one caught him in the left leg, sending him to the floor in a whining heap.

�No,� Pemberley hissed. �This can�t be happening. I didn�t trade it all away to lose it like this��

Morgan moved over him, not knowing what Pemberley was talking about� and then he thought back to how the doctor had gotten out of prison. He crouched next to the man, keeping an eye on the other exits. �Did you trade your soul for freedom, Melvin?�

Pemberley�s eyes were filled with tears. �It�s worse than that. I promised him anything� and everything.�

Morgan slammed the butt of his gun against the man�s head, knocking him out. �Might have known your soul wouldn�t have much value.�

After searching Pemberley�s pockets and finding nothing of value, Morgan found the stairs and headed up, towards Constance.

Femi stood just outside Abby�s room, a look of amusement playing across her beautiful features. She appreciated that Constance had aided The Undying in reviving her, having found the remaining members of the ancient cult and providing them with the means to find Femi�s remains. But beyond that, she had little loyalty to this woman or the other members of Murder Unlimited.

The Egyptian princess was here for two reasons: to finally gain revenge on the hated Lazarus Gray and to locate someone who could not only become her lover, but her guide to this strange new world. Femi thought she might have found both in the form of Melvin Pemberley. He was handsome enough to suit her physical lusts but so morally degenerate that she felt confident she could bend him to her will.

The sounds of gunfire filled the warehouse, echoing loudly off the bare walls. Femi flinched, still not accustomed to these deadly new weapons that men possessed. Though she felt a thrilling desire to know more about such modern inventions as the cinema and radio, the art of warfare was now so terrifying that even one of her power had to be awed.

Femi froze in place, having heard something in the brief pause in gunfire. She whirled about and came face-to-face with Abby. The brunette smiled coolly and tilted her head to one side. �You�re the team�s magic expert, right? The one who can raise the dead?�

With a soft laugh, Femi nodded. �I am a Mistress of the Lost Arts. I have conquered Death. I am the Giver of Pain.� She gestured contemptuously towards Abby. �You wish to test your powers against mine?�

Abby shook her head. �No. Not really. I just want to see you bleed.�

Before Femi could respond, Abby punched her right in the nose. Blood spurted from each nostril, dripping off the Egyptian�s chin. Abby finished the other woman off with a hard elbow to the top of Femi�s head.

Abby tied Femi in the same manner that she�d been bound, though she took the extra precaution of placing a spell on the ropes. She had just finished doing so when Morgan bounded up the stairs. He stopped short when he saw her and then his eyes twinkled.

�The dames on this team,� he said with a chuckle. �You take all the fun out of rescuing you.�

Eun Jiwon was a happy man.

When fighting, he was lost in the deadly ballet. His body was his instrument and he wrote a chilling symphony of death.

Battling Femi�s mummies had its pros and cons, however. The combats were long, which pleased him, but it was hard to do serious harm to the undead, which lessened the joy that Eun felt.

Even so, he threw himself into the fray with wild abandon, kicking and punching two or even three of the monsters at a time.

Lazarus, meanwhile, bypassed the mummies entirely. He threw himself into the air, displaying a gymnastic prowess that would have pleased even Samantha. He landed flatfooted beside Davis, who squawked in terror. Lazarus grabbed the fat man by the collar and slammed his head against the wall. He did this three times and then tossed the unconscious villain aside.

�Go on, Chief!� Eun yelled, slamming together the heads of two of the slow-moving mummies. �I�ll be along in a minute!�

Lazarus hesitated only a moment before his faith in Eun won out. He ran up the stairs and glanced out the ruined front door. He saw Sporrenberg and Samantha were pinned down outside and the unconscious form of Pemberley lay in the foyer.

He was about to head upstairs when something caught his eye: a small stack of dynamite hidden against the wall. A small detonator lay on top, the second hand counting down to doomsday. Now he saw the ultimate scheme: lure the members of Assistance Unlimited into the building and then allow the explosives to end their lives. If that was true, then the other villains would be planning their escapes at this moment.

Sure enough, the gunfire from above ceased and hurried footsteps took their place.

�Everyone! Get out! Now!� Constance yelled.

The veiled woman skidded to a stop when she saw Lazarus. She turned, intending to head back up, but found the path now blocked by Morgan and Abby.

�The game�s over,� Lazarus said quietly. �We�ve just captured the Queen.�

It had been an easy task for Abby to disarm the explosives. In fact, she�d simply transformed the material into something inert and harmless. With the threat of an explosion now removed, the members of Assistance Unlimited were able to turn over their enemies to the authorities at their leisure. Lazarus assured both Klee and Constance that he would see to it that their conditions were cured, or at the very least eased.

Only Femi remained at 6196 Robeson Avenue, a permanent guest of Lazarus Gray�s, at least until they could figure out what to do with her. A simple execution seemed obviously ineffectual, in light of her continuing resurrections. The Egyptian was provided with a small room on the top level of the building, where Lazarus normally had the entire floor to himself. Her room was barred with all the mystical force that Abby could bring to bear and Lazarus felt confident that they would not have to worry about her escaping anytime soon.

Forty-eight hours later and Melvin Pemberley was placed back into the very same cell from which he had escaped. The foul physician had sat on his bunk long after lights out, staring into the darkness, his heart hammering in his chest. He had gone through surgery to remove the slugs that Morgan had fired into him and he ached terribly. But that wasn�t the reason for his insomnia. He was expecting a visitor.

An awful, terrible visitor.

Then a voice finally spoke up from his right, its owner invisible in the stygian darkness of the prison. �Well, that didn�t take long, did it?�

�What do you mean?�

�You�re back in jail so soon. I figured you�d make the most out of your freedom, Melvin. Especially given how much you gave up to get it.�

Pemberley swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly very dry. �What did I give up?�

�You told me I could have anything and everything, remember?�

�Yes� So what is it that you want?�

The voice laughed softly before answering. �I gave it a lot of thought and in the end I decided that the only thing you had worth taking was the only thing you ever really valued.�

Pemberley�s voice cracked. �Just tell me, damn you!�

�No, Melvin. Damn you.�

Pemberley felt a gloved hand touch his scalp, massaging it. He shivered but made no move to defend himself.

�I�m going to take that mind of yours,� the voice hissed. �Your intellect. I�m going to take it and put it to good use.�

Pemberley�s eyes opened wide but he never made a sound. He couldn�t, even if had wanted to. All the knowledge, all the vocabulary, was flooding out of his mind, like someone had removed the cork. His jaw fell slack, a bit of saliva dripping from his bottom lip. His handsome face would never be attractive again, not with that vacuous expression upon it.

He was an Idiot now, better suited for the sanitarium than a prison.

The gloved hand left his scalp and its owner stood up, allowing himself to become briefly illuminated in the cell. He wore a long red cloak over broad shoulders and a hood hid his features, though curved horns atop his skull gave a clear indication that he was not quite human. He looked through the bars of the cell, his eyes falling upon the staring eyes of the prisoner across the hall.

The man licked his lips in terror, whispering the name, �Satan,� under his breath.

The hooded figure grinned. �Oh, come now, give me some credit. Given all the information I just absorbed, I think a better non de guerre would be Doctor Satan.�[6]

The mocking laughter carried through the prison and even the brain-dead form of Melvin Pemberley shivered in its wake.

The jungle�s heat was oppressive. The sunlight that streamed in through the twisted trees was an odd color, filtered through the verdant canopy. The air was so thick that moving through it was like passing through some invisible curtain of humidity.

The two men who moved along the narrow trail were as close as brothers. In the lead was a tall man with blond hair, blue eyes and a horribly scarred face. Walther Lunt could have been handsome if not for the horribly misshaped flesh on the right side of his face, which was the result of a nasty encounter with a vial of acid.

Behind him came Richard Winthrop. He was an athletically built young man in his mid-twenties. A graduate of Yale University, Winthrop had an intelligent look to his face and mismatched eyes � one was a dull brown in color, the other a sparking emerald. Several days� worth of beard and tiny droplets of sweat marred what would have otherwise been a handsome face.

�How much farther?� Winthrop asked, adjusting the backpack that he was wearing.

�Anxious, are we?�

�I�m ready to grab the rock and head home,� Winthrop responded.

�If I had a beauty like Miya waiting for me, I�d probably feel the same way. It should be just up ahead.�

Winthrop nodded. Though he was younger than Lunt, the German seemed unperturbed by either the humid conditions or the long trek that had brought them here. Of course, in the three years since they�d first met, Winthrop had come to consider Lunt�s placid nature par for the course. The German had a furious temper when roused but he always seemed too lofty to be brought down by mere physical exertion.

�Are you certain that you can handle this, Richard?�

Winthrop glanced at his friend, noting the challenging tone to the words. �If I need your help, I�ll give a yell, believe me.�

Lunt nodded, smiling softly. He pressed forward, as if sensing that their destination lay within reach.

They had come here to find The Temple of Pain, where cultists had practiced human sacrifice for centuries. It was rumored that the devil himself would join them for drug-fueled orgies� until the night that a warrior, stoked by alcohol and bloodlust, stabbed Satan with a sacred knife. The warrior had carved out the devil�s heart and it had become the most unholy of trophies, housed in the very center of the temple.

The Illuminati, the shadowy organization to whom both Winthrop and Lunt belonged, wanted The Devil�s Heart. It was hoped that they could keep it from the hands of evil men, thus protecting the world.

At least that�s what they said.

When Winthrop had been recruited into their fold three years before, he�d accepted The Illuminati�s good works at face value. But in the last year or so, he�d begun to have some doubts. He still wanted to believe that the majority of the organization was trying to live up to its stated ideals but he was no longer the devout follower that he had once been.

The two men pushed through a cloud of mist that hung knee-high between the trees and suddenly they were there. Before them was The Temple of Pain.

Winthrop felt his heart skip as he stared at the stone structure. He felt a strong bond with history take hold of him. Men and women had lived here, fornicated here and died here� and now he had come to this place, possibly the first White Man to ever dare step foot inside.

The mists seemed thickest around the Temple, as if the jungle itself was trying to hide its secrets from prying eyes.

Winthrop moved forward, staring at the structure in awe. There was a single entrance, the dark hole of the cave covered by cobwebs. On each side of the doorway stood five-foot high stone guards, shaped like men but bearing the faces of demons. Each guard held a carved sword, point planted in the ground. They were gorgeous works of art though the impression left by the faces was anything but beautiful.

�Do you hear that?�

Winthrop turned. Lunt was looking all around them, his own face a mixture of curiosity and excitement. For a moment, Winthrop was confused but then he realized what his friend meant: it was silent. Absolute silence. No birds. No insects. Not even the sound of the wind in the branches.

Lunt�s grin broadened, though one corner of his mouth was twisted down due to the scarring. �According to legend, the Temple was sealed when the natives fled this place. A curse placed upon the ground said that from that day forward, only one person at a time could enter the Temple and none could leave with The Devil�s Heart.� Lunt tilted his head in the direction of the doorway. �Last chance, Richard. You or me?�

�I�ll do it.� Winthrop looked away from Lunt. The year before, he�d had a terrible experience in Mexico, and it had left some in The Illuminati doubting his ability to work in the field. They thought he was a coward but Winthrop knew he wasn�t. It was just that the screams of those vampire children had haunted his dreams� in the end, he knew that he�d done the right thing by setting their home ablaze, but to see their faces as they met their ends had been unsettling, to say the least.

Setting down his backpack, Winthrop knelt and opened it, taking out a small piece of parchment. It was supposedly a map of the Temple�s floor plan, though it neglected to show any of the traps that the natives had left behind. Still, it gave him an advantage that most men wouldn�t have had. The Illuminati had found the map at great expense, after all.

�Don�t leave without me,� he said, tucking the paper into the waistband of his pants.

�Be careful, Richard.�

Winthrop grinned. �You worry too much. I�ll be back before you know it.�

Water dripped from the ceiling and the hallway was alive with the sounds of scampering rodent feet. The temple�s odor was one of stale air, moist vegetation and death. Winthrop�s nostrils flared as he drank it all in, waving his burning torch ahead of him. He felt like a trespasser, invading someone�s tomb or home. It wasn�t the first time that he�d experienced that sensation � indeed, since joining up with The Illuminati, he had felt this way too many times to count.

The passage twisted, winding its way deeper into the heart of the temple. Winthrop paused occasionally to study the pictograms on the wall, holding his torch close and blowing away the dust and cobwebs. The images were crude and almost uniformly disturbing: they showed screaming victims, most of them women, being raped by demonic figures. In some cases, the victim�s heads were being yanked free, their entrails spilled to the ground.

A gasp made Winthrop freeze in place. He peered into the darkness but saw nothing. It had sounded human but he knew that his senses couldn�t be trusted in this environment. The human mind was always too quick to dip into the realm of imagination.

After making a quick check of his map, Winthrop pushed on. Eventually, he came to a small chamber that lay just ahead, the center of which was illuminated by a shaft of sunlight, let in by a circular hole in the ceiling.

Winthrop made no move to enter the chamber. He was well aware that the men who built this place were famous for their intricate traps. Whether they feared or adored The Devil�s Heart � or both � they wouldn�t have left it unprotected.

Fishing around in his pockets, Winthrop�s fingers returned with a small candy bar. It was a Butterfingers, which had become Winthrop�s favorite since their introduction a few years prior. He tossed it into the chamber, watching as it skidded across the floor, coming to a rest in the center of the sunbeam.

At first, nothing happened. Winthrop was just about to relax when he heard a grinding sound emanating from the chamber walls. Suddenly they sprang together like a mousetrap, sharpened spikes extending from hidden recesses. Anyone unfortunate enough to be caught in the trap would have died in agonizing fashion and as the spikes began to retreat and the walls slid creakingly back into place, Winthrop knew that he�d have to be doubly careful from here on.

The mechanics of such a design, especially when made by a primitive people, were quite impressive. It made him wonder at the men who had frequented this place � most of the local tribes refused to speak of them but it was obvious that they had been brilliant in some fashion.

Pressing himself against the walls, Winthrop slowly made his way across the chamber. Now that he knew they were there, he could make out the tiny protrusions of the spikes. Careful not to place too much of his weight on the mechanism hidden under the floor, he managed to reach the other end, where he found another hallway. This was extended some twenty or thirty feet, ending in a wooden door.

Winthrop looked up and down the hall, seeking some sign of the next trap. His attention became fixed to a dark area of the floor and he knelt beside it, reaching down to brush away the cobwebs. To his surprise, his fingers felt nothing but air beneath. The hole was not as impressive a trap as the room he�d just passed through but it was obviously just as effective � when he waved the torch into the opening, he saw the mangled bones of at least two men. They had died long ago, unable to climb out with their broken limbs. Starving in the dark was not something that Winthrop ever wanted to experience.

Standing up, he calculated the jump he�d have to make. He tossed his torch to the other side and it landed in a plume of dust. The flames kept burning, though they dimmed slightly.

Taking several steps back, Winthrop took a deep breath and began to sprint. His feet left the ground just before reaching the abyss and he hurtled through the air, wind milling his arms and legs. He landed hard on the other side, stumbling to his knees.

After taking several deep breaths to calm his beating heart, he snatched the torch back up and studied the door that lay before him. It was carved out of local wood and could be pushed inward, swinging open. He looked for any traps but found nothing at first glance. Taking a moment more, however, revealed a discoloration on the wood, right where a man�s hand would naturally fall when opening the door. Poison, he mused. He wasn�t sure if the poison would still be good after all this time but he wasn�t willing to take the chance. He reached for the center of the door, pushing against it with his shoulder. The weighting mechanism was designed to work against anyone that used another means beyond the obvious and it took a few seconds of hard work to get the door to push open.

Winthrop found himself standing in an oval chamber, the ceiling of which featured three rectangular openings, allowing sunlight to fill the room.

Set on the altar, looking both enticing and horrifying was The Devil�s Heart. It was a reddish-colored stone, in the general shape of a human heart. The sunlight caught on its surface and glittered, almost making it look like it was beating in time to Winthrop�s own heart.

Just behind the altar stood another statue, one very much like the guards outside the temple. It stood just over five feet in height, with a squat but powerful-looking body and a demon�s head. A sword was held in its hands, tip against the floor.

Winthrop stared at the floor and walls, seeking to see if there were any clues to more spikes or a false floor. Finally admitting to himself that he saw nothing, he moved forward, creeping towards the Heart. His torch fluttered suddenly, the flame dancing before going out. Winthrop stopped immediately. The wind had apparently come in from the sunroof above and as he looked up, he saw overhanging limbs buffeted to and fro. A storm was coming.

Turning his attention back to the Heart, Winthrop tossed the extinguished torch aside. Once he had the artifact, he could find his way back, even in the dark. He had a meticulous memory, almost photographic in its complexity. The only reason he kept going back to the temple map was because it helped relax his nerves.

He reached a hand out to the Heart but stopped just short of touching it. Was there one last trap to be worried about? Would the removal of the idol set off some weight-sensitive trigger? A quick glance around assured him that no massive rock was going to roll out to crush him but he still felt uncertain.

Taking a deep breath, he snatched the Heart off the altar and shoved it quickly under his arm. It weighed less than it looked and was strangely warm to the touch.

The sudden sound of grinding stone elicited a mumbled curse from Winthrop�s lips. He turned towards the noise and his eyes widened considerably. The stone guard was moving, its eyes now shining with malevolence. The stone blade rose from the floor, borne aloft by thick arms. A sound came from the thing�s throat, a rumbling growl that spoke of ancient rage.

For a few seconds, Winthrop was too stunned to move. But when the guard lunged for him, swinging the blade with such force that it whistled through the air, he found himself jumping aside. The weapon smashed into the floor and the guard yanked it free with another roar.

Winthrop bolted for the door, only to find that it had closed behind him. Shoving against it didn�t seem to work and he was hesitant to risk coming into contact with the poison.

Alerted by the heavy footsteps behind him, he ducked down just as the stone warrior slammed his weapon against the door.

Winthrop sprinted around the warrior, looking for another exit. All he saw were the three rectangular windows above. If he could reach them, he might conceivably squeeze through one of them�.

Again the warrior whirled about, his hideous features somehow seeming to contort into something worse. He pointed at the Heart that Winthrop held and the meaning was clear.

Winthrop avoided another sweep of the mighty weapon, knowing that one blow would be enough to break bones and leave him helpless. He turned and leapt up onto the altar and tensed, knowing that he would only get one chance at reaching the windows. He threw himself up, holding on to the Heart with one hand. The warrior grabbed for him, narrowly missing the bottom of his foot.

Winthrop�s free hand grabbed hold of the opening�s edge and he cried out in pain, holding his entire weight aloft with just four fingers. He twisted and threw the Heart through the window, hoping that it would fall somewhere near Lunt. Then he reached up and grabbed hold with his other hand, pulling himself up and through to freedom. It was a tight squeeze but he managed to do it, even with his muscles screaming.

He looked down, seeing the stone warrior standing there, face turned up to the sky. The warrior let out a bone-rattling growl but the battle was over � the Heart had been stolen.

Sliding down the rough-hewn roof, Winthrop paused at the edge. He saw Lunt watching him, a smile on the man�s scarred face. He was holding The Devil�s Heart in one hand, tossing it up and catching it like a baseball.

�Not bad, Richard,� Lunt said. �I might make something out of you, yet.�

Winthrop threw himself to the ground, landing in the grass with a grunt.

�Encounter any problems in there?� Lunt asked, curiosity shining in his eyes.

Winthrop wasn�t sure why but he wasn�t in the mood to satisfy his friend�s desires at the moment. �Nothing worth mentioning. It was a piece of cake.�

Robeson Avenue had become one of the more famous streets in Sovereign City. The transformation from an unassuming, mostly abandoned locale to one where gossip columnists routinely camped out was the direct result of Lazarus Gray choosing it for his home base. In the years since he had awoken on the city�s beachfront, he had slowly built a reputation as a man who could do the impossible.

The business that he had established was equally as well known. Dubbed Assistance Unlimited, this operation existed for the sole purpose of helping those in need. Gray charged nothing upfront for his services, preferring to be paid when the job was complete. He asked only what the client could afford and not a penny more. With the city reeling under the twin terrors of a stagnant economy and rampant corruption, the papers had seized upon Lazarus Gray as a figure of great interest and one capable of inspiring hope.

Gray had purchased all three of the buildings that lay on Robeson Avenue. The heart of his complex was a three-story structure that had once been a hotel. Gray�s three associates used the first floor, while the second had been gutted and converted into one large room that was used for meetings, briefings and research. The third floor was off-limits to everyone but Gray himself.

Across the street were several storefronts, all of which had closed down at the dawn of the Great Depression. Lazarus had purchased these, ensuring that no one would operate any businesses next to his own.

The military-issue vehicle that parked in front of Assistance Unlimited was the only car to be seen. The two men who got out of the car and approached the door cast cautious glances up around them. There was something unnerving about the complete silence that engulfed them. There were no pedestrians on the street and the only lights that illuminated the dusk came from the building whose address label read 6196 Robeson Avenue.

Morgan Watts, a member of Assistance Unlimited, witnessed their arrival. All traffic into and out of the city block owned by Lazarus was monitored and a tiny alarm had sounded the second that the car had turned onto the street.

Morgan was sitting in an office on the first floor and he zoomed in on the men�s faces as they approached the front door. One of them had short-cropped blond hair and appeared to be in his early forties. The other was shorter and a bit stouter, with dark hair and eyes. From the markings on their uniforms, Morgan knew that the blond was a Colonel and the dark-haired man was a Major.

The Colonel stood in front of the door for a moment before ringing the bell. The buzzer had scarcely sounded when he heard Morgan�s voice come through a tiny speaker located over her head.

�Can I help you, sir?�

�Um� yes. I�m Colonel Williams and my companion is Major Davis. We want to inquire about hiring your services.�

Morgan heard soft footsteps behind him. He didn�t need to turn around to know who it was � the perfume was one that he knew well. It belonged to Samantha Grace, the stunning blonde member of the Assistance Unlimited staff. �I�m going to open the door for you, Colonel. When you enter, you�ll see a small information desk � it looks like any that you�d seen in a hotel. Just wait there and someone will be along to escort you to an office.�

Flicking the switch that opened the front door, Morgan spun his chair around and smiled at Samantha. While he looked spotless as always in a suit and tie, Samantha was wearing a white tennis outfit. A racquet was held in one hand and it rested over her shoulder. �Have a good game?� he asked.

�Those hens never actually play, you know that. All they want to do is gossip. If it wasn�t for Lazarus wanting me to stay on top of such things, I wouldn�t give them the time of day!�

Morgan grinned. All members of the team were assigned various areas of the city that they were to scour for information. Morgan had to keep his old criminal ties in order, for instance. Samantha was forced to spend time with the daughters of her family�s socialite friends.

Morgan thought he got the best of that particular exchange. �So,� he said, rising from his chair. �Do you know these guys?�

�I know the Major,� she said, stepping out with him. �He asked me out once.�

Morgan snapped his fingers. �Ah! Was he the one who took you to the girlie club?�

�No. That was Roger Kinser. I never went out with Tom. That�s Major Davis,� she added.

Morgan walked up to an intercom circuit located in the hall and pressed the button. �Lazarus? We�ve got a customer � couple of military types, one of them�s named Tom Davis. I�m going to put them in Room C and start interviewing the two of them. If you want to join us, feel free.�

Samantha put a hand on her hip and shook her head, eliciting a raised eyebrow from Morgan.

�What?� he asked.

�You! Making it sound like you had the first clue as to who he was.�

Morgan grinned. �When I type up the report, I�ll give you full credit for identifying him.�

Samantha rolled her eyes playfully. �Sure, you will. I�m going to go change. Enjoy your interview, playboy.�

After taking a moment to enjoy the swinging of Samantha�s hips as she walked away, Morgan began whistling and set off to find their guests.

Lazarus opened his eyes as Morgan�s voice filled the room. He was sitting in a lotus position on the floor, a bowl of burning incense resting before him. Ever since the uncharacteristic depression that had settled upon him last Christmas, he had picked up the art of meditation. It soothed the occasional anxiety he felt over his fractured memories and kept him on an even keel.

He glanced over at Abigail Cross, who was his frequent companion during these sessions. The lovely brunette wore a long skirt and a low-cut blouse, which would have captured the attention of almost any red-blooded male. But Lazarus, though not immune to her charms, had the presence of mind to keep his gaze on her eyes. �We can finish this later,� he said, rising from the floor and offering Abby a hand.

The Southern Belle accepted the help graciously. �I don�t see why you bother with this, Lazarus. You�re the calmest man I�ve ever come across.�

�I�m a cauldron of emotion, actually. I just keep it bottled up inside.�

Abby started to laugh but stopped abruptly, seeing the fire in his eyes. �You mean that, don�t you?�

�I know I have the reputation for being rather robotic but I�m as human as anyone else. The truth is, losing my memories the way that I did� it�s left me feeling like an outsider to my own existence. I�m too calculating as a result � even when powerful things occur to me, I�m detached, viewing them through a lens. That clinical nature makes it hard for me to maintain interpersonal relationships.�

�You do just fine with all of us,� she pointed out.

�Yes, but here, I can let my guard down.�

Abby reached out and took his hand. �If you ever get lonely, Lazarus� I don�t mind being there.�

Lazarus studied her for a moment, wondering if she were merely offering friendship or something more. �I appreciate that, Abby.� He pulled away from her, heading to the door.

He held it open for her and she passed close by, allowing her hips to brush against his leg.

Taking a deep breath, Lazarus followed after her.

When Lazarus and Abby entered the room, they found that Morgan was tapping a pencil on the top of the briefing room table, a look of annoyance on his face. The two military men were facing him with looks of stern refusal. Lazarus immediately sensed what had occurred: the men had pushed aside Morgan�s attempts to question them, preferring to wait until Lazarus himself had arrived.

�Gentlemen,� he said, giving a nod of his head.

Williams stood up and offered a hand, while Davis merely smiled coolly. �Mr. Gray,� Williams said, after everyone had taken their seats. �I�ve heard a lot about you back in Washington. Expert on the occult, master of several fighting disciplines and righter-of-wrongs.�

�I try to help where I can,� Lazarus said simply.

�Well, that�s why we�re here,� Davis said gruffly.

�What can I do for you?�

�You�re familiar with a man named Walther Lunt, I believe?�

Morgan shifted in his seat, casting a glance at his employer.

�I am. He died not long ago.�

�Our sources say that he�s died more than once.�

�That�s true. He�s a member of a shadowy organization that�s known by many names. As such, he has access to mystical forces that have allowed him to cheat death before. Are you suggesting that he�s done so again?�

Both Morgan and Abby sensed the tension that manifested in Lazarus� clipped manner of speaking. Neither of them knew much about what kind of man he had been before his death and rebirth but since his life as Lazarus Gray had begun, he was generally a tightly controlled figure, never showing much in the way of emotion. But those who knew him best could recognize his discomfort.

Williams shook his head. �As far as we know, he�s in whatever grave you threw him in. But yesterday one of our agents intercepted a message sent from Peru to Berlin.�

Davis interrupted, leaning forward to emphasize his words. �Mr. Gray, I�m sure you�re well aware that the Germans pose a threat to the entire free world. We�re watching them very closely.�

�As well you should.�

Williams cleared his throat. �The Nazis are absolutely obsessed with the occult. It starts with Hitler and trickles down from there. They�re eager to find anything that has even the hint of mysticism about it. And our sources say that they�re currently excavating a temple in the Peruvian jungles.�

Lazarus felt a strange tickle in the back of his brain. His memories were uncertain things but he had more control over them now than he once did. He remembered The Temple of Pain and wondered what had become of The Devil�s Heart.

Williams reached into a pocket and withdrew a small piece of paper. He handed it over to Lazarus. �This communiqu� contains clues to what the Germans are doing but none of it makes much sense to us. We�re hoping you can help explain it.�

The paper contained only three lines of text:

Lazarus read the lines three times before looking up, his expression grim. He looked over at Abby and said, �Go summon everyone else. Wait with them in the large briefing room. Now!�

Abby jumped up, having rarely seen Lazarus deliver orders with such force. After she had left the room, Williams, asked, �So what does this mean?�

�The Temple of Pain is in the jungles of Peru, but you already knew that. It was home to a demon-worshipping cult. The story goes that one of the worshippers got out of control during one of their ceremonies and took a knife to the guest of honor � the devil.�

Davis blinked. �Wait a minute. You�re talking about the devil? As in Satan?�

Lazarus directed Morgan to go and fetch one of his journals. While his aide was out of the room, Lazarus said, �It doesn�t matter. According to legend, it was a powerful demon whose existence was ended by a mortal. The man carved out the devil�s heart and it became an object of worship in the area. When the cult finally died out, it was left behind in the crumbling temple.�

�So it�s still there?�

Lazarus thanked Morgan, taking a bound leather volume from his friend. �No, it�s not. About six years ago, Walther Lunt and I tracked down the temple and I claimed the heart.�

Williams nodded thoughtfully. �And you gave it to Lunt.�

�Yes.�

�But what about this mention of a body?� Davis asked.

�There was a separate legend, one that Lunt told me had been discredited. It said that the devil�s body had been preserved in some fashion.� Lazarus flipped through the pages of his journal, finally finding what he was looking for. He read aloud:

And the body of the devil was said to still have consciousness, though not true life. It answered questions and provided dark knowledge, unable to resist serving those who possessed it.

Lazarus closed the book and tossed it onto the table, where it landed with a thud. �Lunt told me that the body supposedly vanished long before we found the temple. It was carted around the American west in various sideshows before it disappeared completely. The last known sighting of it was in the 1890s.�

�You said it had been discredited.�

�Yes. Investigators from the Illuminati � a husband and wife duo named Caleb and Nancy Grace � were shown the body in 1857. They claimed it was a fake, nothing more than the upper torso of a monkey sewn onto the lower half of a deceased human who suffered from dwarfism. Their opinion was that there was no devil�s body out there. It was a scam.�

�But you had doubts about that, didn�t you?� Davis, despite his gruff exterior, possessed a keen eye when it came to human nature.

�I did. But I could never find any true evidence of it and Lunt convinced me to let the matter lie.�

Williams looked excited as he asked, �Do you know where Lunt�s private papers could be? We have no idea how long it will be before the Nazis realize this message was intercepted. We have to move before they do.�

�You want to keep this occult object out of Hitler�s hands?� Morgan asked. �So you guys believe in its power?�

�Anything the Nazis want this badly, we�d like to keep away from them, yes. But I, for one, don�t put stock into the supernatural. That doesn�t mean it might not have uses, though.�

Lazarus rapped his knuckles on the tabletop. �It�s been years since I was privy to Lunt�s secrets but from the best I can remember, he had three main homes: one in Berlin, not far from where The Illuminati�s inner circle met; another in Switzerland; and a third here in the United States. That one was in Manhattan.�

Williams gave a shake of his head. �I think we can scratch the Berlin base off the list. Our sources say that the Nazis ransacked Lunt�s home last week. If they�d found what they were looking for, there wouldn�t have been any point in the communiqu�.�

�Then that leaves two.� Lazarus moved to the door, stopping only when Davis rose to his feet.

�Where are you going?� the military officer demanded. It wasn�t a tone that many people took with Lazarus and it was obvious that Morgan didn�t take kindly to it. He leaned forward with a glower.

�You asked for my assistance, didn�t you?� Lazarus responded, opening the door. �You have it. My staff and I will look into this matter. You�ll hear from me soon.�

Jakob Sporrenberg was no stranger to the Swiss Alps. As a youth, he�d come here with his parents, learning the skills of both mountaineering and skiing. He�d taken to both with aplomb and had pestered his father to bring him back again and again.

The former SS officer stopped as he ascended another slope. The sun was coming over the horizon and Sporrenberg reached up and adjusted the goggles he wore. The way the light reflected off the white snow could be blinding at times, as he well knew.

Turning to look over his shoulder, he saw Samantha and Eun hurrying to catch up to him. When Lazarus had made the decision to divide their forces, Sporrenberg had been the obvious choice to lead the Swiss team � and he�d quickly selected his companions. Abby and Morgan were both very capable but neither would have been able to keep pace with him.

Samantha, looking perfectly at home in her parka and snow gear, looked up above them. The villa that had belonged to Walther Lunt was perched on the mountainside. It was a beautifully designed structure, one that spoke of both class and wealth.

�That�s� really nice,� Samantha said, gasping slightly in the thin mountain air.

At her side, Eun issued a grunt of agreement. �He knew how to spend money.�

Sporrenberg waited until they were alongside him before he spoke. �We�re not alone here.�

Samantha looked around in confusion. �What do you mean?�

�Look at the ground.� He knelt down and ran his gloved hand over the powdery surface. �There are indentations in the snow. You can�t call them footprints any longer but they were here before the most recent snowfall. I�d guess that someone came through here no more than an hour ago.�

�So you think they�re still inside?� Eun asked, tensing in anticipation. The young Korean enjoyed combat more than anyone Sporrenberg had ever met.

�There�s no sign of them having come back through here,� was the answer. �So I think it�s safe to assume we�re going to meet them inside the villa.�

�Nazis,� Eun muttered with disgust. He glanced over at Sporrenberg and shrugged. �No offense.�

�None taken. I turned in my membership card, remember?�

Samantha grinned, looking like she�d just been told that they were about to attend a grand ball. �Then what are we waiting for? Let�s go kick some Nazi tail!�

Half a world away, the remaining members of Assistance Unlimited � Lazarus Gray, Morgan Watts and Abigail Cross � were moving through the darkened streets of Manhattan. While it was dawn in Switzerland, it was approaching one a.m. in the eastern United States.

Rain fell in weighty droplets, drenching the city. The few poor souls out at such an hour were mostly the homeless dregs of society and they shuffled about, misery having long ago taken root in their souls. The Stock Market Crash of �29 had plunged much of the country into a deep economic abyss and its effects were still very powerful, even some seven years later.

Morgan glanced over at a pockmarked middle aged man, dressed in what had once been a fine coat but which was now threadbare, and thought how lucky he was. When his own life had gone south, Lazarus had been there to lift him up. Though he hadn�t adopted a new name, he felt a kinship with Lazarus in that they had both experienced a rebirth. Morgan Watts, criminal, was a far cry from the man he was today.

Or so he liked to believe.

Looking around at the run-down brownstones that lined the streets, Morgan couldn�t help but ask, �Are you sure this is the right place? I can�t picture Lunt slumming it like this.�

Lazarus led the trio up the steps of a building whose doorway bore a sign that read Open thine eyes and see the truth. �Walther enjoyed the creature comforts but far more important to him was practicality. This location is less than two blocks away from a major Illuminati meeting place and a member of the guild owns every home on this street. It�s extremely well protected. Even the homeless man we just passed is probably just a plant, working in service to the Illuminati.�

Morgan paused, looking after the man in the threadbare coat. There was no sign of him. �So are we in danger here?�

�We�re always in danger,� Lazarus said, stepping into the building. There were four mailboxes in the lobby, labeled 1�4. The third of them featured a small set of stenciled labels across the front: Lunt. It was the only one that appeared unused recently � the box was stuffed full of papers, to the point that it was no longer serviceable.

Abby strode to the box and yanked out the papers, flipping through them quickly. �Lots of letters, postmarked from Europe. And there�s an envelope that�s pretty heavy.�

Lazarus accepted the manila envelope and ripped it open, shaking out its contents into a palm. It was a small fertility idol, though the face had been burned at some point, giving it an inhuman appearance.

After staring at it for a moment, Lazarus tossed the idol into the trash. �Discard all of that. We�ll take the garbage container with us on the way out.�

Abby dumped the contents of her arms into a nearby trashcan. She whispered an ancient spell, placing a protective barrier around the garbage container. If anyone besides her were to touch it in the next few hours, they would receive a nasty surprise: a blinding glow, accompanied by a loud squeal that would alert her to their presence.

Having protected the papers, Abby followed the men up the stairs, taking note of the peeling wallpaper and the overwhelming odor of sweat and urine that permeated the place. She�d been in worse locales but not by much.

�Something bugs me about this, Chief,� Morgan whispered.

Lazarus didn�t bother looking back as he replied, �You�re wondering why his papers have been piling up,� he said.

�Yeah. If The Illuminati really were watching this place, why wouldn�t they be checking his mail? For that matter, if the Nazis are trying to go through his stuff, wouldn�t they have rifled through it?�

�First, we�ve dealt The Illuminati several mortal blows lately. I expect that they�ve had far more serious concerns on their collective minds than going through dead men�s mailboxes. Second, for all we know, they have gone over each and every piece of mail in that box already and deemed them unimportant. And as for the Nazis, they probably know that whatever papers they need would have been in Lunt�s possession long before now and so they wouldn�t be found in the mail.�

Morgan nodded in agreement to each of those points. He didn�t feel foolish for having expressed his misgivings � in fact, he felt comforted by the fact that Lazarus had already mentally processed them.

Lunt�s apartment was on the third floor of the tenement building and despite the creaky nature of the stairs, the Assistance Unlimited team had made it to that level with scarcely any noise at all.

This was a good thing because it was readily apparent that someone had beaten them to the site � and was possibly still present.

The door to the apartment was open, revealing an interior that had perhaps once been decorated in stark contrast to the building itself. But the once-tasteful d�cor was now in shambles, having been ruthlessly ransacked. A single lamp that could be seen from the doorway was on, illuminating the scene.

Lazarus held a finger to his lips, warning his aides of the need for silence. He reached under his jacket to pull free his pistol from its holster.

Just as he stepped into the apartment, a gunshot cracked through the air. A bullet struck the lamp�s bulb, plunging the room into darkness.

Lazarus felt himself yanked into the apartment as the door slammed shut behind him. He heard both Abby and Morgan banging against it but it had been quickly locked.

Though surrounded by stygian darkness, Lazarus knew that his highly trained senses would be capable of evening the odds against his enemies � especially since they, too, would be hampered by the lack of light.

Strangely, Lazarus could hear no breathing, nor the footfalls of his enemy. Were they trained in stealth? If so, then his task might prove harder than he�d first assumed.

A strange, mocking sort of laughter suddenly filled the apartment, seeming to come from all sides. Lazarus froze, his ears ringing from the volume of the noise.

And then the attack came.

A series of quick martial arts-style chops to the back of his head sent Lazarus tumbling forward. He grabbed at the wall for support, sending something crashing from a nearby table. Then his attacker was upon him again, this time using the butt of a gun to deliver a powerful blow across the hero�s temple.

Lazarus gasped in pain, barely able to maintain consciousness. The laughter, which had paused for only a brief moment, was back, though it was of a quieter tone. In its wake, a man spoke and Lazarus tried to pinpoint where it was coming from � he had no idea if it was the same person who had attacked him, though he suspected it was.

�The famous Lazarus Gray,� the man said, in a voice that somehow evaded Gray�s attempts to decipher the man�s age or national origin. �I suppose it was inevitable that we would eventually cross paths.�

Lazarus swung his fist towards the place where his instincts told him the man might be standing but his blow pushed through open air. �Who are you? Do you work for the Nazis? Or The Illuminati?�

�Men call me The Darkling and I don�t work for anyone. In fact, a great many more people work for me than even they realize.�

�Touchy, aren�t you?� Lazarus paused, shaking his head to clear it. Straining his senses to their limit, he caught the faint whiff of smoke from just to his right � probably a tendril wafting into the air after the mysterious figure had fired his gun a moment before.

Lazarus threw himself in that direction, slamming hard into the shadowy figure. The man�s exclamation seemed equal parts surprise and pain.

Now that he had his measure of the man�s presence, Lazarus followed up with a punch that knocked the other man against the coffee table in the center of the room. Books and memorabilia belonging to Lunt spilled all over the floor.

As Lazarus sought to press his sudden advantage, he reached to where the man should have been but once more his fingers closed on nothing more than air.

From across the room � much farther away than the man should have been � the laughter came once more, followed by a slow clapping of hands. �Very impressive. Few men have ever laid hands upon me. I tip my hat to you.�

At that moment, the door to the apartment broke apart, pieces of wood flying. Abby stood there, her dark hair streaming behind her and her eyes glowing with mystic power. Morgan was at her side, gun in hand, and he immediately looked around the room, making sure that Lazarus was unharmed.

The light that streamed in from the hallway exposed the mysterious Darkling. He was tall and thin, his body cloaked in an ankle-length coat. A low-brimmed hat hid the upper part of his face, while the top of his coat was pulled up high enough to obscure his mouth and chin. What could be seen of his face showed that he wore a black and white mask, giving his features the look of a skull. He held an automatic in each hand and as Morgan burst into the room, he turned both of them upon the former confidence man.

Morgan reacted with the instincts of a man who had spent the better part of his life dealing with life and death. He hit the ground in a rolling crouch, even as bullets ripped through the wall above him.

The Darkling spun and sprinted towards the third-floor apartment window. He lowered his shoulder and threw himself against it, shattering the glass and tumbling out into the night air. The mocking laughter that followed his descent was full of madness.

Lazarus ran to the window, looking at the street below. There was no sign of The Darkling, though his laughter continued on for several more seconds before vanishing.

�Who the hell was that?� Morgan asked, dusting himself off. He rose a little unsteadily, shaking his head to indicate that he didn�t need any assistance from Abby.

Lazarus glanced around the room, his eyes narrowing. He knelt on the floor in front of the shattered window, picking up a torn matchbook cover. It bore an image of a Grecian urn surrounded by the words THE ODDYSSEY CLUB. �That,� Lazarus said with a grim expression, �Was our first lead.�

Sporrenberg crept along the side of the villa, pausing long enough to peek through one of the windows. There were four men inside, three of whom were agents of the S.S.. Jakob felt a pang of regret upon seeing their uniforms � not long ago, he�d been a member of their order. Despite the fact that he had not subscribed to all of the F�hrer�s beliefs about racial matters, he had believed in his leader because Hitler had revived German nationalism. He had made young men proud to be Aryan � and that was no small feat, considering the devastation left behind by the Great War.

The fourth man was older than the S.S. officers. He wore the rank of General but he was unfamiliar to Sporrenberg. This fellow had pockmarked cheeks, dark-ringed eyes and a slender body. He held a riding crop in his right hand and it slapped rhythmically against his leg as he watched his men search the house.

�If you want, you can stay outside and tiptoe through your memories.�

Sporrenberg frowned, turning to see Eun�s grinning face. He and the young Korean had verbally sparred during their first few weeks of knowing one another but they had finally buried the hatchet � though it had a tendency to occasionally reappear in one or the other�s back from time to time.

�Stop sparring, you two,� Samantha said, rolling her eyes. Like the men, she was armed with a rifle. Though she was a crack shot, she was no lover of guns. Given her druthers, she�d prefer to use her judo training against an enemy � something that she shared in common with Eun. �How are we going to play this? Bust in and start shooting? Or are we hoping to take one alive so we can question him?�

Sporrenberg looked back into the window, his expression suddenly shifting. The room was now empty.

�Get back!� he hissed. �They know we�re here!�

His warning came just in time. Even as Samantha and Eun began throwing themselves off the porch, landing in the snow, the Nazis were springing from the sides of the building. Two of them sported rifles and they trained these on those on the ground, the bullets causing the snow to explode in plumes of white. The third man wielded a handgun and he sprang up the steps onto the porch, eager to face Sporrenberg. Of their commander, there was no sign.

Jakob raised his rifle and slammed the butt of it into his enemy�s shoulder. The Nazi�s gun discharged, shockingly loud at such close range, but the bullet missed Sporrenberg and embedded itself in the side of the villa.

Sporrenberg slammed his forehead into the man�s face, cracking his nose. As blood streamed down over his mouth, the Nazi uttered a long stream of obscenities in German. Sporrenberg silenced him by firing two shots, both of which found a home in his enemy�s throat.

Down below, Eun and Samantha had taken temporary shelter beneath the porch, though they could hear the men outside coordinating their next move. A moment later, a grenade came rolling into the dark gloom and Eun sprang upon it without hesitation, snatching it up and hurling it back out onto the snow with all his might. It exploded just out from under the porch and the German who had initially tossed it cried out in pain. He fell forward into the snow, his smoking corpse visible to the members of Assistance Unlimited.

Eun ran out onto the snow, gun blazing. None of his bullets found a home in the remaining Nazi but they were enough to send his target scrambling for safety. Eun tried to drive the man to the right side of the house, hoping that Samantha was following along his same line of thinking.

Luckily, she was.

Just as the Nazi tried to jump behind a snowbank, he found himself face-to-face with the petite member of Assistance Unlimited. She had snuck out from the porch when Eun had sprinted out and taken up a spot where she guessed the Nazi would eventually end up.

The German hesitated for a moment and that gave Samantha the opening she needed. She performed a beautiful spinning leg kick that cracked the man�s jaw and sent two teeth flying. Before the Nazi could even think about retaliating, she�d thrust the bottom of her right palm against his jaw. Once more quick blow � this time, an elbow to his temple � and the man was out cold.

�Jakob! Are you okay?� Samantha asked, nudging the man at her feet.

Sporrenberg leaned over the edge of the porch. �I�m fine but we�re missing one of them � their leader. We should go inside.�

Samantha and Eun rejoined him and collectively they entered the villa. To their surprise, they found the German officer seated in a chair, nonchalantly lighting a pipe. The acrid aroma of the tobacco leaves flooded the air.

�Jakob Sporrenberg, ja?� the officer asked. �I recognize you from the many pictures I have seen. You were quite the disappointment. You not only turned your back on the sacred brotherhood but upon the entire nation. And now you travel with women and mongrels.�

Sporrenberg pointed his weapon at the man, who took a long puff on his pipe before exhaling. �I can�t say that I know who you are,� he said, trying to keep his voice calm. Truth be told, his heart was hammering in his chest. It was one thing to turn his back on his pledges of loyalty� to be confronted with it was another.

�I am General Luther Strauss.� Sporrenberg paused, his eyes widening. Strauss laughed softly. �Ah, you know the name. I am known to some as Geist.�

Sporrenberg sensed that his friends were looking to him for guidance. Never taking his eyes off of Geist, he said, �Hitler�s obsession with the occult has led to the formation of something known as the Occult Forces Project. Herr Strauss was one of the early successes of the OFP. But an experiment involving a Tibetan artifact left him as something less than human.�

Geist shook his head. �Ah, you are wrong, my friend. I am more than human. Much more.�

�And now you�re working as an errand boy? Digging through a dead man�s house looking for papers?�

Geist stood up quickly, making Eun and Samantha tense. He regarded them with amusement before turning back to Sporrenberg. �We learned about the communiqu� being intercepted very quickly � but I never expected to see agents of the famous Lazarus Gray here.� He lowered his voice. �We can help each other, you know.�

�Unless you�re talking about keeping the body out of Hitler�s hands, I don�t see how.�

�Because there�s a race afoot. Yes, The F�hrer wants those bones� but there is a man known as The Darkling who does, as well. It is in everyone�s best interest to make sure he doesn�t get them first. We work together to do that, then we can sort out which of us gets them afterward.�

�So you haven�t found any clues?� Sporrenberg prodded.

Geist reached into his jacket and pulled out an envelope. He removed a dog-eared letter from within. �This is a letter from a man named Felix Moore in Montreal, Canada. It�s dated April 1932. According to this, he says that he received the boxes that Lunt sent him and that they�re being stored in a safe location. I don�t know if there�s any chance of the bones or of a map being in those boxes� but there�s nothing here, so it�s worth a look.�

�What�s to stop us from taking that letter from you and going after those boxes ourselves?� Eun challenged, taking a few steps closer.

Geist smiled broadly. �Try it, mongrel.�

Sporrenberg shook his head to indicate that Eun shouldn�t accept the challenge but it was too late � the fiery Korean was already on the move.

Eun struck Geist on the side of the head but in the microsecond before his hand made contact, Eun saw something startling take place: the skin on Geist�s face shimmered and faded, leaving behind only the glowing outline where it had been. His skeletal structure was revealed but it was immaterial, allowing Eun�s blow to pass right through it.

Geist then retaliated, balling his left hand into a fist and shoving it through Eun�s chest. He then partially solidified himself, causing the young hero to scream in agony. Geist stepped back, removing his hand from the man�s body, and allowed his body to shift back into its normal state. �You see?� the German said with obvious pride. �I am far beyond anything you can comprehend. My soul was transported to Hell and back in a blink of an eye. The men and women who witnessed it saw nothing, heard nothing. But I was there� for what felt like months, if not years. I experienced pain and pleasure in equal amounts. And I was transformed.�

Eun allowed himself to be drawn away by Samantha, who slipped her arms around his shoulders and began speaking to him in soothing tones.

Sporrenberg sighed and scratched at his head. �We�ll work with you for now, Strauss. But only because you have information that we need � and I don�t want you reporting back to your bosses while you�re with us. Do you understand?�

Geist gave a stately bow, ignoring the looks of hate that he was receiving from both Eun and Samantha. �As you wish, Herr Sporrenberg. As you wish.�

It was just past nine p.m. in Manhattan, less than twenty hours since Lazarus Gray had first crossed the paths of the mysterious man that called himself The Darkling.

For one young crook, meeting that creature of the night was now proving to be a nearly fatal mistake.

Johnny Williams felt like his heart was about to explode. It hammered painfully hard in his chest as he rounded the corner and found himself facing the dead end of an alleyway. He unleashed a string of curses that would have made a sailor wince in surprise. He leaned against the wall and steadied himself, reaching into the pockets of his coat so he could reassure himself that his treasures were still there. One of them, his pistol, he pulled out into the open. There was still one bullet in the chamber and he�d have to make it count � or else he�d end up just like Lester and Bobby. They were lying in pools of their own blood a few blocks back.

The other prize that he carried was left in its pocket, the weight of it causing his coat to lean heavily to the left. Johnny knew how valuable it was but he refused to think about it too much � it unnerved him. He heard footsteps coming towards the alleyway and he raised his gun, prepared to fire the moment he came into view. He�d heard stories that bullets didn�t faze the masked man but he refused to believe that. The Darkling was a human being and that meant he could be killed.

The footsteps came to a halt and the seconds began to stretch into minutes. Johnny swallowed hard, wondering what the hell The Darkling was up to. His hand was beginning to shake under the strain and he began looking around quickly. There was a small grating nearby and he could hear the rush of water from below. It was a storm sewer and Johnny suddenly gleaned the beginnings of a plan.

After checking once more to make sure that his pursuer hadn�t entered the alleyway, he hurried over to the grate. He knelt and peered inside. It was too dark to make out much but he thought he saw a small ledge overlooking the rushing water. The rain that had fallen the day before had evidently been heavier than he�d realized.

Johnny set his gun down on the ground and pulled out the object that was resting so heavily in his pocket. He looked at it for a few brief seconds and that was enough to give him the shivers. It was a skeletal hand, the fingers long and thin, ending in sharp points. The odor of death clung to it, filling his nostrils, and Johnny felt an almost overpowering urge to touch the hand, to fondle it and kiss it. It was an absurd thought, of course, and Johnny thought it was probably one that showed just how close to losing it he really was. His life was on the line and here he was, filled with lust for a dead man�s body part.

Johnny pried the grating away from the hole and set it aside. He then leaned over and tried to calculate the trajectory he�d need to ensure that the hand landed on the ledge and didn�t fall into the rushing water. He was about to drop the hand when he heard a strange, mocking sort of laugh fill the alleyway.

�I hope you�re smarter than your friends were, Johnny.�

The husky voice sounded like it had come from beyond the grave. The words were spoken with no trace of empathy at all. Johnny might as well have been a rock, for all that The Darkling cared. Even though he�d said nothing threatening, Johnny could tell that he placed absolutely no value on his life. The young thug was so scared out of his wits that he didn�t even wonder at how the vigilante had known his name.

Johnny stood up, letting the hand drop from his grasp. It clattered to the ground, lying beside the open grate. Turning, he came face-to-face with a sight that was usually the final one for all who saw it. It was The Darkling, the underworld�s one-man judge, jury and executioner.

He stood six feet tall, with a long overcoat that was buttoned down the front. His shoulders were slightly stooped, making Johnny think of his own grandfather, bent with age. A fedora hat was perched low on the Darkling�s head and his face was hidden beneath a white cloth mask that was painted to resemble a skull.

Johnny had always laughed at the stories that described the man � how could anybody be scared of a dude in a Halloween costume? But now that he was faced with the real thing, Johnny was worried that he was about to piss his pants.

The Darkling held a pistol in each hand and Johnny, something of a gun nut, recognized the make of them: Smith & Wesson Hand Ejector IIs. The revolver had been introduced a few years before The Great War. Chambered for .45 caliber rounds, the Hand Ejector II normally had a five or six inch barrel but Darkling�s guns had modified barrels that had been cut down to four inches in length.

Johnny held up both hands, trying to sound braver than he felt. �We were just doin� a job, man. We were paid for a grab and go� and then we was gonna take the loot to the guy who hired us. Nobody was gonna get hurt.�

�Tell that to Lamont Jackson. You boys left him with four bullets in his belly while you made off with that hand.�

Johnny instinctively reached for his gun but his hand froze in midair. He glanced down and saw that he�d forgotten to pick it up off the ground. His eye flicked back to The Darkling, who was now advancing towards him.

�Last chance, Johnny,� he said. �Kick the hand towards me and then tell me the name of the person who hired you. Or I can just kill you where you stand and find out on my own. Your choice.�

Johnny didn�t take long to make his decision. He charged The Darkling, lowering his shoulder in hopes that his surprise move would allow him to knock the dark garbed killer aside and gain his freedom. Unfortunately for him, The Darkling spun out of the way, extending one of his legs to trip him up. Johnny hit the ground hard, the impact causing him to bite the tip of his tongue. He struggled to rise, realizing how close he was to death, but The Darkling�s booted foot came down on the center of his back. The Darkling was remarkably strong and Johnny writhed like a bug that had been pinned to a board.

�You�re dumber than I thought you were,� The Darkling whispered. Johnny whined, especially when he heard the rustle of cloth behind him. He didn�t crane his head to see what the other man was doing. He had a good idea and he didn�t want to have his suspicions confirmed.

Johnny�s friends had gotten off easy. Their lives had been ended by shots from Darkling�s pistols, their brains reduced to mush when bullets had ripped through their skulls. But Johnny knew the vigilante had picked him for a far worse fate.

Darkling took his weight off but Johnny didn�t try to run. Hot tears were suddenly stinging his eyes and he felt moist warmth spread through the crotch of his pants.

�Look at me,� Darkling commanded.

Slowly Johnny's head came up, his eyes traveling the length of the vigilante�s body. The Darkling knelt in front of him, placing the barrel of a gun against Johnny�s forehead. �Do you know what being a bastard gets you? It means you end up without a friend in the world and without a single chip to cash in. Life�s all about equity, you see? Do good deeds and people look the other way when you screw up. Everybody screws up, after all. But when you�re a killer, rapist or cheat, nobody�s going to stick their neck out for you when you need them to.�

�Please, don�t do this,� Johnny snuffled. �I got a little girl. She�s two years old.�

The Darkling paused, tilting his head to the side. �You take care of her?�

�Whenever I can, yeah.�

�You live with her mother?�

Johnny hesitated. �No.�

�Divorced?�

�We just shacked up, that�s all. We broke up after the baby was born.�

The Darkling laughed hoarsely. �The baby. That�s what you call her, huh? When�s the last time you saw her?� The gun barrel dug in a little harder. �Don�t lie. I�ll smell the lie on you.�

�It�s been awhile,� Johnny whispered. �Six� maybe seven months,� he added, his voice now so low that The Darkling could scarcely hear him.

�Sorry to hear that,� The Darkling said. �A child needs a positive male influence in their life. But it doesn�t sound like you were being that for your little girl.�

�You gonna kill me?�

�I sometimes say to people like you, �No. You killed yourself.� I like that because it puts the blame squarely on you. But you know what?�

Johnny shook his head, the tears coming fast and hard now.

�I want to take the credit for this one. Yes, Johnny, I�m going to kill you.�

Darkling put his gun away, confident that no one was going to come and investigate the noise. People in Manhattan knew better and the police had learned to avoid this area of town. Though it didn�t say so on any map in the world, this was The Darkling�s turf.

He walked over to Johnny�s fallen gun. He picked it up and examined it briefly before tossing it next to its owner�s body. He then moved over to the skeletal hand. He lifted it up gingerly by one finger and studied it before shoving it into one of the pouches sewn into his jacket.

With a weary sigh, he removed his mask and hid it and his guns beneath his jacket. He then took out a small radio and twisted the dial on its surface. �Earl, I need an extraction. Just off 3rd.� In the distance, a siren could be heard. Evidently someone on the police force hadn�t learned his lesson yet. �Immediately.�

�Yes, boss,� Earl replied, speaking with a smooth Southern drawl.

The Darkling knew that his agent was already in the sky, flying over the Empire City in a specially modified zeppelin that had been painted black and outfitted with engines that were nearly silent.

The incident in Lunt�s apartment the previous evening had left The Darkling feeling uncharacteristically off-balance. He had found only pieces of evidence � a chart listing anatomical parts along with a series of names � but it had confirmed his suspicions: the body had been hacked up over the years, the pieces scattered across the globe. Lunt had managed to track down the five men who owned sections of the monster but the list was now a couple of years out of date. Nonetheless, The Darkling had discovered that one of the men on the list was local � and he�d arrived seconds too late to stop Johnny and his gang from murdering him and stealing the devil�s hand.

The question was: who was Johnny�s employer? The Darkling knew that the Nazis were after the demonic remains but they surely didn�t know about Lunt�s Manhattan apartment so quickly? Was it possible that The Illuminati or some subgroup was on the trail as well?

He looked up to see the dark shape of his zeppelin above. A long rope ladder dropped down and he jumped up to grab it � a leap that would have put most Olympic athletes to shame. Within a moment, he was inside the airship, stripping out of his long coat and hat.

�Where to, boss?� Earl asked, keeping his eyes front. The hulking Negro had been born in Atlanta but had moved to Harlem just before the Stock Market Crash, hoping to find a career in jazz. It hadn�t worked out like he�d hoped and he�d ended up on the Brooklyn Bridge, planning to end it all. But the mysterious arrival of The Darkling, and his peculiar offer of servitude, had spurred Earl to new purpose. He�d mastered the controls of the zeppelin far faster than he ever would have thought possible and now served as his employer�s chauffeur both in the air and on the ground.

�The Odyssey Club,� The Darkling said. He slid into a seat next to Earl�s, applying a false nose over his own. It gave his profile a different look and when combined with the high-quality hairpiece that he had slipped into place, he looked nothing like the man he truly was. Not that Earl would have been able to swear to that, having never seen The Darkling�s true face. �It�s time for Harold Grant to make his evening�s appearance.�

The Odyssey Club catered to the wealthiest segment of society, transporting them from the grime of the real world into an idealized version of ancient Greece. Huge marble columns, toga-wearing wait staff and even a public bath in the rear of the facility made it the ritziest nightspot in the city, if not the entire East Coast.

As Harold Grant left his overcoat at the checkin counter, he scanned the crowd with a keen eye. The real Harold Grant was buried in an unmarked grave but the false identity served The Darkling well. Grant had been a playboy adventurer, disappearing for weeks or months at a time. His eccentricity allowed The Darkling any number of benefits.

�Harold!� a young woman exclaimed, spotting him from across the crowded floor. She hurried over, her pendulous breasts swaying beneath a black dress that was too young for her. Betty Lane was the premiere gossip columnist in New York and though she was annoying, The Darkling was glad to see her. Having his name in tomorrow�s society column would be good for the image. �Where have you been?� she asked, kissing him on each cheek.

�Holland. Did I miss anything?�

Betty clucked like a mother hen and leaned forward to whisper in his ear, �You�ll never guess who�s here tonight!�

The breathless way she spoke made him pause. His finely attuned sense of danger had begun to blare an alarm. �Who is it?� he asked, smiling broadly.

�Lazarus Gray! He�s here with two of his aides from Assistance Unlimited!�

�You don�t say��

�He�s right over there,� she said, pointing towards a raised set of tables, normally reserved for VIPs. �Do you want me to introduce you?�

The Darkling pulled away from her, giving a brief shake of his head. �I�ll do it myself, Betty.� Taking note of the look of disappointment in her eyes, he added, �I�ll buy you a drink later.�

He slid through the crowd, somehow managing to avoid contact with almost everyone. He looked at home here, as his masquerade demanded, but in truth he found this sort of extravagance disturbing. There were men and women starving in the streets, yet these revelers squandered money like it were water.

Lazarus was seated at a table with his companions from the evening prior: both of whom The Darkling recognized. He had made it his business to know as much as possible about all those who might cross his path. Morgan Watts and Abby Cross were both dressed to the nines, flirting shamelessly with one another as part of their cover. Lazarus was not quite as skilled when it came to deception � he was too obvious in the way his eyes scanned the crowd, examining the faces around him.

The Darkling wondered how they had come to be here. It was one of his primary hangouts in the city, particularly when he wore the identity of Harold Grant. Surely it wasn�t coincidence that Lazarus would be here, just one night after meeting The Darkling?

Pausing just short of the table, The Darkling adopted a broad grin and cleared his throat. Lazarus turned his attention to him immediately, obviously surprised that he hadn�t noticed the man approaching. Abby and Morgan both sat back, regarding him curiously.

�Lazarus Gray. Such an incredible honor! My name is��

�Harold Grant. I�ve seen you in the papers.�

�Oh, my!� The Darkling laughed in the vacuous way that people associated with Grant. �To think you know who I am! You know, I play at being an adventurer but you� you�re the real deal.� He gestured around at the crowd, many of whom were openly gawking at Sovereign City�s finest. �What brings you to the Odyssey Club?�

�Have you ever been to Tibet, Mr. Grant?�

The Darkling paused, calling upon all his skills to keep his face calm. �I have, yes. Several times. And yourself?�

�Yes. On my last visit, I met a Lama who specialized in causing confusion to the minds of those around him. His name was Tenzin.�

The Darkling exhaled, his smile never wavering. �That�s a common name among Tibetans. The first Dalai Lama was named Tenzin.�

�Why don�t you have a seat, Mr. Grant?�

The Darkling sat facing Lazarus, with Morgan and Abby on either side of him. �You never told me what brings you here,� he said, trying to seize control of the conversation.

�This.� Lazarus tossed the matchbook cover onto the table. �I found it last night after confronting a man who called himself The Darkling. He exhibited signs of having been trained by Tenzin.�

�Curious. And you think this Darkling character frequents the club?�

�Perhaps.�

�So, tell me,� The Darkling waved away a waitress who had approached. �Am I the only one getting the quiz about Tenzin tonight?�

�No one else here would be likely to have information about The Darkling. You have a unique position in this environment � not only are you familiar with the abilities exhibited by our quarry but you�re also familiar with the people that frequent the club.� Lazarus had this manner of speaking, Darkling had noticed, that would have proven quite unnerving to most men. His eyes rarely blinked and his face remained stoic, rendering his voice monotone. It was an almost hypnotic effect.

The Darkling spread his arms wide. �Well, it�s a good thing that I stopped in tonight! I am at your disposal.�

Abby took a sip of her drink and asked, �Have you heard of The Darkling?�

�Yes, though it�s all been rumor to this point. They say he�s been active for a couple of years. Some say he�s a hero, to others he�s a villain.�

�And what do you think he is?� Abby wondered aloud, a smile touching her lips. The Darkling was well aware of the girl�s beauty and the way she leaned forward, prominently displaying her cleavage. But he wasn�t enticed. He had long ago said goodbye to sexual urges. He had mastered them, as he had every other emotion that could keep him from his appointed task.

�I wouldn�t know,� he answered. �It seems to me that some of the people he�s going after are criminals � so that must be a good thing.�

�And what if he�s not sticking to just crime lords and their gunmen?� Morgan inquired. �What if he�s hurting innocent people along the way?�

�No one�s innocent,� The Darkling said. His smile remained fixed but his eyes grew serious. �But I see where you�re going. If he were harming regular Joes, that wouldn�t be acceptable.�

Lazarus placed a palm down on the tabletop. �I researched the Odyssey Club,� he said and The Darkling shifted in his seat, wondering how long this little song and dance was going to last. �It seems that you�re one of the owners.�

�Minority owner,� The Darkling clarified.

�Did you know that there are listening devices planted all over the building? Or were they installed by one of the majority owners?�

The Darkling looked away, his expression hardening. When he looked back at the trio before him, Abby audibly gasped. Though he still wore the face of Harold Grant, his entire demeanor was now different. And when he spoke, the voice that came from his throat was huskier and filled with an undertone of violence. �How did you know?� he asked.

Lazarus gave a small shrug. �Like I said, I looked into the club and found your name in association with it. Given your penchant for travel, I put two and two together. What would be the odds of two members of this club having the opportunity to learn the mental disciplines shown by The Darkling?�

The Darkling nodded slowly, pleased with the realization that Lazarus still thought that he was dealing with Harold Grant. �So what do we do now?�

Morgan cleared his throat, gesturing with his head towards the ground. One of Morgan�s hands was under the table and The Darkling heard the telltale sound of a pistol being cocked. �Now you tell us everything we want to know or you�re going to become a eunuch.�

�Please don�t threaten me,� The Darkling warned. �I could be out of this chair and gone before you fired the first bullet.�

�Want to test that?�

Lazarus placed a hand on his aide�s arm. �Morgan. Enough. We don�t want a fight here.�

The Darkling sat back, crossing his legs. He looked quite casual and any observer would have thought that he was doing nothing more than chatting amiably about the weather or some other innocuous topic. �Ask away.�

�Who are you working for?�

�I told you last night: I don�t work for anyone. I�m after those demonic bones for my own purposes � not Hitler�s nor anyone else�s. Why do you want them?�

�The government has asked us to keep them out of Germany�s grasp.�

�They just want to utilize it for themselves.�

�That�s better than Hitler having it,� Morgan pointed out.

�One man�s tyrant is another�s champion.�

�Are you defending the F�hrer?� Morgan asked in disbelief. �Listen, we have a former S.S. officer on our team. Some of the things he�s told about what�s going on over there would boil your blood.�

The Darkling ignored Morgan, focusing his attention on Lazarus. �The demon�s body was cut up into five pieces � six if you count the heart that was removed first. I have the devil�s left hand in my possession. The rest of them are scattered across the globe.�

�Do you know where they are?� Lazarus asked.

�I have an idea. I found a chart in Lunt�s apartment last night, listing the names and locations of the men who had each body part. It�s a few years out of date, though, so it may not be 100�% accurate.� The Darkling looked around the club, his distaste for most of humanity bubbling close to the surface once more. �Ironic, isn�t it? One of the iconic figures of evil is destroyed but do we celebrate by ushering in an age of peace? No. We spend the next few centuries killing each other so we can claim its mortal remains.�

�How philosophical,� Morgan said with obvious disgust. He noticed a smile on Abby�s lips and relaxed, pleased to see that she shared his feelings.

The Darkling fixed Morgan with a stare that caused the older man to shrink away. Dismissing Morgan with a roll of his eyes, he turned back to Lazarus and said, �I assume you want me to share the chart with you?�

�I want you to give us the chart.�

�That�s not going to happen. I want the corpse.�

�What are you planning to do with it?�

�You�re beginning to waste my time.�

Lazarus pushed his chair back and stood up. His chiseled figure looked menacing in the dim lighting and would have intimidated almost anyone. But not The Darkling. �You�re not leaving this club without turning the chart over to us. I meant what I said earlier: I don�t want to have an altercation here. But if need be, that�s what I�ll do.�

The Darkling studied him for a moment, his mind running through all the possibilities. He had total faith in his skills but the crowd would impede his ability to utilize the techniques he�d learned in Tibet. Keeping his voice low, he asked, �Are you really going to turn it over to the military? You want to entrust a dark power such as this� to the kind of men who would occupy the seats of government?�

Lazarus gave a quick shake of his head. �No. I don�t plan to do that. And I expect that they know it. I fully expect them to swoop in at the last moment and try to claim it. I believe that occult powers are dangerous enough in the hands of those who know how to use them � they�re even more so in the hands of people who don�t.�

�Then trust me that I know how to use it.�

The Darkling moved quickly, realizing that there was nothing more to be said. As distasteful as this setting would be, he had to make his stand here � if he could somehow escape Gray�s clutches, then he could hide himself in one of his other identities and continue his mission. But if he were to be caught� No, he mused, there was no chance of failure.

The Darkling reached under the table and grabbed hold of Morgan�s hand. He applied just enough pressure to stimulate the man�s clenching reflex and the sound of the gun being discharged cut through the club�s background noise like a warm knife sliding through butter. Predictably, a woman screamed, sending off a frenzy of people heading toward the exits.

The Darkling stood up, knocking the table over onto Abby, who vanished beneath it with a cry of alarm. He then rose from his seat and delivered a roundhouse punch to Morgan�s chin that sent the old man toppling over.

Leaping into the maddened fray, The Darkling looked around for Lazarus but there was no sign of Assistance Unlimited�s leader.

�Oh!�

The Darkling muttered a curse under his breath as he slammed hard into a woman�s body. It was Betty, her eyes wide with alarm. �My apologies,� he said, trying to move past her.

She clutched at his arm with surprising tenacity. �Harold! Take me with you! Somebody fired a gun!�

�I know. I heard it.� He looked around, his body being buffeted by the men and women surging past. Clearing his throat, he locked eyes with her and lowered his voice. �Betty Lane,� he said, �you are unafraid. You will leave this place and go home. You will remember having an exciting evening but you will not remember seeing me before you left. Do you understand?�

Betty stared at him, her mouth hanging open. It looked like The Darkling�s eyes were orbs of pure black, filling her entire range of vision. �I� yes. I understand.�

�Good.� The Darkling pulled away and moved towards the rear exit. He ducked through the kitchen, which was empty and shoved open the back door. He came into an alleyway, not far from where Earl had parked the car. He had taken several steps toward the street when Lazarus Gray moved into view, blocking his exit.

�Stay where you are, Mr. Grant.�

The Darkling broke into a run, sprinting towards Lazarus. He seemed to merge with the darkness of the alley, his arms spreading like a raven�s wings. He threw himself into the air, soaring towards Lazarus with maniacal laughter bubbling up from between his lips.

Lazarus seemed unaffected by the dizzying cacophony, reaching up to grab hold of The Darkling�s midsection. He ducked under the shadowy figure and used the man�s momentum to send him tumbling to the ground.

The Darkling landed in a roll, up and on his feet in a flash. He backhanded Lazarus, catching him on the side of his skull, and followed with a powerful uppercut that split the other man�s lip.

Lazarus shrugged off the blow, slugging The Darkling in the face, causing the false nose that was part of the Harold Grant disguise to crumple and fall to the ground.

The Darkling barely dodged another punch before retaliating with a karate chop to Gray�s throat. As the hero gasped for air, The Darkling ran for freedom, escaping the alleyway�s confining quarters.

Lazarus lunged after him but it was too late. Just as in the night before, The Darkling had vanished into the night air, leaving an uncharacteristically angry Lazarus to slam his fist into the side of the Odyssey Club�s exterior.

The Darkling slipped into the back seat of his car, wiping away the blood that trickled from his nose. He saw Earl watching with shock in the rearview mirror, surprised at seeing his employer sporting an injury.

�We need to leave here,� The Darkling said.

Earl revved the engine and quickly merged into traffic. A police car flew past in the opposite direction, headed towards the club. �Back to the Grant estate, boss?� the driver asked, his Southern accent drawing out the words.

�No. Lazarus Gray will be heading there.� Leaning forward, The Darkling pulled a small case from beneath his seat. He set it beside him and opened it, revealing a variety of disguises. He began to change his appearance while barking out instructions. �Go to the airfield. We have a number of places to go and not much time to do so.�

Earl nodded, speeding along through the dark streets of the city.

The search for the devil�s corpse was now split along multiple lines, though few knew how twisted it had all become: The Darkling had memorized the chart, his mind retaining every detail in perfect relief; Lazarus Gray and his companions would soon descend upon the Grant home, where they would find the hard copy of Lunt�s chart; the Nazi forces would be continuing their hunt, though they lacked the resources to find the items quickly; and in Canada, another group of Assistance Unlimited members were working with Geist to find more clues of their own.

Had The Darkling known about the group in Canada, he might have acted differently than he did. Instead, he looked towards the front of the car, his skin a darker shade than before, with a moustache and heavy brows, and uttered, �First: we go to Montreal, to pay a visit to Mr. Felix Moore.�

Montreal was a beautiful city, one that had begun to crawl out of the depths of the Depression caused by the stock market crash of �29. The skyline was changing rapidly these days, with skyscrapers being built at a prodigious rate. The 24-story Sun Life Building had been completed in 1931 and Samantha stared up at it as a chill wind whipped at her clothing. �It�s lovely here,� she said.

�You would think that,� Eun said, shivering at her side. �You can speak French and that�s all anybody around here wants to know.�

Samantha smiled. It was a beautiful day despite the cold air and she wore a lovely khaki-colored blouse and slacks. Eun was bundled up in a dark suit, his hands shoved under his armpits. �I�ve offered to teach you.�

Eun stared across the street, at the set of office buildings facing them. Sporrenberg and Geist had entered the building marked Alou, Dyfenseur. �Tell me again why we�re out in the cold?�

�Alou is a lawyer who�s done some work for Lazarus in the past. When Jakob called him to update him on our progress, he recommended that we speak to him.�

Eun stepped closer to her, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, �I think we should ditch this Geist character.�

�Of course you do.�

�I�m being serious!�

Samantha took a deep breath. �Eun, I don�t trust him. Jakob doesn�t trust him. But he�s useful right now. Besides, if we keep him close, then we know what he�s up to.�

�Keep your friends close and your enemies closer,� Eun muttered with disdain. It was a phrase coined by Machiavelli and though its truth was undeniable, Eun did not favor it. Given his choice, the young Korean would take the battle directly to his enemies.

�Here they come,� Samantha warned and the two of them moved apart, not wanting to make it look like they were in collusion.

Geist was no longer in a military uniform, having traded his Nazi attire for a charcoal gray suit and tie. He cut a dashing figure, though Sporrenberg put him to shame in that regard, as he did most men.

�What did you find out?� Samantha asked.

Jakob crossed the street, Geist trailing at his heels. �The address that Geist has is no longer valid.�

�What a surprise,� Eun whispered.

�Mr. Morris moved a few months ago,� Jakob continued, the four of them huddling together in front of the Sun Life Building. �But Alou was able to find out where he�s at now. Apparently, there was an unusual fire at his old home and he lost much of his belongings.�

Samantha stifled a yawn. Traveling from the States to the Alps and then to Canada had left her feeling off-balance. But they had no time to waste on rest � Lazarus had called them early this morning to tell them about his encounters with The Darkling. They had invaded the home of Harold Grant and located not only the needed chart but also a massive number of weapons and ammunition.

According to Lunt�s chart, he had sent a number of items to Felix Moore for safekeeping and amongst those was both the devil�s right hand and the heart that Lazarus had discovered years before.

�Then what are we waiting for?� Eun asked. �Let�s go see if he has what we want.�

Geist cleared his throat. �If he does, he will not just hand them over. Are we all in agreement that we must do whatever it takes to claim these prizes?�

�We�re not killing anyone � not unless it�s a last resort,� Samantha said. �And you�re outnumbered three to one, so I�d suggest you play by our rules.�

The German officer gave a slight bow, though the smile he wore was a mocking one. �As you wish.�

�Is it far from here?� Eun asked, shifting his weight from foot to foot in an attempt to stay warm.

�I didn�t see you shivering this much in Switzerland,� Sporrenberg said, looking at his teammate with surprise.

�It�s cumulative,� Eun said defensively. �I�ve been in cold environments for days!�

�Sporrenberg gave a brief snort. �Alou says we can borrow his car. It�s parked behind his building. Should take us less than twenty minutes to reach our destination.�

�What do we know about Morris?� Samantha asked, walking at Jakob�s side as they took off towards the lawyer�s vehicle. �He must be with The Illuminati, right?�

�Surprisingly, no. Lunt was smart enough to have a group of followers who were loyal to him, not to any higher organization. Morris had been Lunt�s secretary back in the Twenties and they remained close, even after Morris was blinded in one eye and retired from travel.�

�That�s good,� Eun said. �Means that we might have an easy time of it. If he were Illuminati, he�d probably have guards.�

The group stopped at the car, which was a Model-A, circa 1927.

Eun scratched his head. �I thought lawyers were supposed to be rich. Shouldn�t he be driving something newer than this?�

�It�s a classic,� Samantha retorted. �And it�s not like you have a car.�

Jakob slid behind the wheel. �That�s enough. Let�s just focus on the mission.�

Geist, who sat beside his fellow German, nodded. �Agreed. Our concerns should be greater than any automobile.�

The home belonging to Felix Morris was located in a very wealthy area of the city. A wrought-iron fence surrounded the two-story house but the front gate was open, allowing Sporrenberg to drive straight onto the driveway. There was one car already there and the license plate matched that of Mr. Morris.

The house was painted a dull gray in color and the yard, though quite expansive, showed signs of ill care. Weeds popped up here and there and the bushes were in serious need of pruning.

�Doesn�t look like he�s much for yard work,� Eun commented.

�You�d think someone with his money would have hired hands for that,� Samantha pointed out.

Jakob held up a hand, indicating that he wanted them to maintain silence. He gestured to Samantha and Geist, pointing them towards the rear of the house. He took Eun with him to the front door, pausing to give the others time to get into place.

When he was confident that they were ready, he activated the small radio hidden in his ear. All members of Assistance Unlimited were outfitted with them and other paraphernalia to aid in their war on crime. �Can you hear me?� he whispered.

Samantha�s voice came through as clearly as if she were standing at his side. �We�re in position.�

�Have Geist walk through the door and unlock it for you. We�re going in loud through the front. If Morris is inside, I want him to focus all of his attention on us. The two of you can sneak up on him.�

�Got it.�

Jakob took a step back and nodded quickly at Eun, who raised a foot and kicked the front door in with a single blow. The German followed the younger man, drawing a pistol as he did so.

The interior of the house was dark and barely furnished. Here and there an odd painting dotted the wall but there were neither photographs nor any sign of the home�s alleged inhabitant.

�Does that smell mean what I think it does?� Eun wondered aloud, wrinkling his nose.

Sporrenberg sniffed and finally lowered his weapon. �Someone�s dead in here.�

The foursome reunited in the living room and conducted a quick search of the home before heading toward the source of the odor: the basement. They found a door that had been locked from the inside and the smell was so strong that Samantha began to retch.

�Stay here, fr�ulein,� Geist said, offering her a brief squeeze on the shoulder. �I will unlock the door and we men can deal with this.�

The look that Samantha shot him caused the Nazi to draw his hand back as if he�d touched a hot stove.

Geist turned back to the door, his skin taking on the peculiar translucent quality that marked the use of his abilities. Then he was passing through the wooden door with scarcely any sound at all.

�You do realize that if he finds those body parts, he�s likely to just grab them and walk right out the side of the house�� Eun looked at Sporrenberg as he said this and was pleased to see that his companion was thinking the same thing.

�If he hasn�t opened the door within twenty seconds, I want you to sprint downstairs and look for him. He can become immaterial but he can�t fly or jump from one place to another.�

Before Eun could reply, an animalistic roar from behind the basement door made him jump. The door suddenly rattled as something heavy thudded against it.

They heard the sound of the door unlocking and then a string of obscenities from Geist, driving Jakob to yank open the door with great haste. What they saw inside brought them all to a sudden pause.

The room was lit by a single lamp, which lay atop a cluttered table. In the dim illumination, they could see that Geist was slowly circling a man who might have once matched the physical description of Felix Morris. But this fellow, though short and stocky like Morris, had dust-colored skin, dry flesh and sunken eyes. His hair clung to his skull in tiny wisps and his right hand appeared quite strange. It was pure bone, with only tiny fragments of skin clinging to the joints, and was sewn onto the arm.

Samantha, always the quickest thinking of the group, blurted out, �He cut his hand off � and attached the devil�s paw!�

Morris whirled towards her, sunken eyes blazing. His voice was dry and painful-sounding. �Don�t look at me like that!� he hissed. �I�m beautiful! Transformed by the touch of the devil! I�M BETTER THAN YOU!� he screeched, sounding like a petulant child trying to force his view onto the world.

Jakob pointed his gun and fired, the slug burying itself deep in the dry flesh of the monster�s left shoulder. Rather than blood, sand flowed from the wound.

Morris laughed, slapping at his own chest. �You see? You can�t harm me any longer!� He lunged for Eun, catching the young man around the throat with the devil�s hand. The fingers squeezed so hard that blood began to flow around the grip and Eun tried ineffectually to free himself.

Samantha burst forward, not wanting to see her friend suffer. She delivered a chop to the back of the fiend�s neck, drawing his attention. He threw Eun aside and turned towards her � at that moment, Geist stuck both fists through the monster�s chest and partially solidified his limbs. Simultaneously yanking his arms upward, this caused the man�s bones to splinter, deep furrows forming in his flesh. Sand spilled out in great amounts and Morris howled in indignation.

Geist pulled himself free, dancing back as Morris struck at him. Despite the fact that the fist passed through him, Geist seemed pained by the experience � somehow, the devil�s hand was able to disrupt his unusual form.

Jakob jumped onto Morris� back, placing the barrel of his gun directly against the man�s head. Though the earlier shots didn�t seem to have any impact, he was gambling that Morris would be brought down by a bullet to the brain.

He fired, the slug passing through Morris� skull like it were tissue paper. The bullet exited the other side, leaving a large circular hole in the villain�s forehead. Jakob could see Geist on the other side of it, reacting instinctively as the bullet passed through his immaterial form. The shell finally ended up embedded in the basement wall.

Morris fell to his knees, dislodging Jakob, who rolled over onto his side. �You have no idea,� the thin man wheezed. �The things that the devil has told me� Things that would destroy your view of the world�.�

Eun surprised everyone by rushing forward. He kicked Morris� hanging head like a football and the man�s head shattered like a watermelon, dust and brain matter flying across the floor.

�That wasn�t really necessary,� Samantha pointed out. �He was down.�

�He might have gotten back up.�

Sporrenberg knelt beside the body and twisted the stitched-on hand until it came off with a crunch. He could feel the warmth in it and a foul taste rose up in his throat. He roughly shoved it into a pocket on his coat, eager to no longer be touching it.

�The heart is here, too.�

Jakob looked up as Geist who had restored his form to its normal state. �How do you know? I assumed that Lunt might have passed it on to The Illuminati.�

�Then you know little about him,� Geist responded. �Lunt was loyal to his masters � to a point. But he always wanted to ensure that his own power was left unchecked.� Geist wandered around the room, which contained many sealed boxes and a large table, which was covered by surgical equipment and stained with blood. On the edge of the table lay the heart-shaped stone retrieved by Lazarus Gray years before.

Samantha made sure to snatch it up before Geist got to it. She shivered as she held it, revulsion mixing with a peculiar sense of eroticism. This was pure primal desire, given physical form. Neither laws nor morals could restrain the urges that poured forth from the devil�s heart.

�So we have two of the pieces,� Eun said.

�Had.�

Everyone turned to the doorway, where a spectral figure stood. At first glance, he looked like a living shadow, a silhouette of a man without substance. As he moved into the room, however, it was all too clear that he was real. He held a small grenade in one hand and wore a gas mask over a skull-like mask.

�Tell the Sandman hello for me,� The Darkling said, tossing the grenade to the floor. It exploded upon impact, releasing a brownish-green gas that enveloped the heroes. Within seconds, they were coughing and losing their grips on consciousness. Only Geist remained standing and, he too, was teetering on the brink.

The Darkling strode into the room, barely paying Geist any mind at all. �Learn anything useful from them, Strauss?� he asked in flawless German, rifling through Sporrenberg�s pocket. He held up the devil�s hand and studied it for a moment before moving to claim the heart from Samantha.

�They�re a good group but undisciplined. Sporrenberg is constantly trying to keep the other two in line. Jakob is still conflicted over his departure from Germany, though. He refuses to admit it but I think he misses the purpose the military gave him.� Geist coughed. When in his normal form, he was susceptible to gases and poisons, though less so than for normal men. �Shall I come with you or maintain this charade?�

The Darkling was packing away the heart, keeping it in a separate compartment in his cloak from the hand. �When was the last time you contacted your superiors in Berlin?�

�I left a single message for them, telling them that after my trip to Switzerland, I was going deep undercover for a few weeks. They gave their approval, as long as I eventually show some sort of results.� Geist shook his head in an attempt to clear it. �I�m hoping that you�ll find some way for me to keep up my guise as a loyal Nazi, Herr Darkling.�

�You are a loyal Nazi, Geist. You work for me because I�m blackmailing you.�

�As you say,� Geist answered with a cool smile. �But that has bought my loyalty, regardless.�

�It will be weeks before Berlin realizes you are out of touch,� The Darkling mused aloud. His words seemed strange to Geist, who began backing away, particularly when that bizarre laughter began to bubble forth from his employer. It echoed throughout the house, rising in tenor.

�I have served you well!� Geist shouted, trying to shift into his ghostly form. Something was wrong, however, and despite the flickering of his skin, he remained solid.

�If you live, there�s a chance that Assistance Unlimited could uncover the fact that you are a double agent in my employ. But should you die � as a filthy Nazi should � then there will never be any doubt that we are not affiliated!� The Darkling drew forth twin automatics. �Do you like the specially formulated gas? It inhibits your powers, in addition to causing unconsciousness in normal men and women.�

�Nein!� Geist shouted, turning to flee. The bullets tore into the back of his skull, splattering the walls with blood and gray matter.

For a moment, The Darkling remained where he was, waiting until his pistols were no longer smoking. He holstered them and looked over the bodies before him. He recognized Sporrenberg, with his Aryan handsomeness and he thought about what Geist had said: �He refuses to admit it but I think he misses the purpose the military gave him.�

The Darkling nudged the German with his foot, rolling him over on to his back. He had recruited many men and women into his service over the years, mostly choosing them based upon some unexplainable feeling that possessed him.

He felt that strange kinship now.

Bending low, he grunted slightly as he lifted Sporrenberg�s body, settling him over his shoulder. The Darkling�s laughter resumed as he exited the home, finally fading into the distance. In his wake, he left a dead man and two slumbering heroes.

Lazarus Gray sat in the study that had belonged to Harold Grant, his fingers steepled in front of his chin. He could hear Abby and Morgan moving through the rest of the house, looking for clues, but he was certain that they would find none.

He now had the list of supposed owners of the devil�s body parts, but that was not his major concern. The Darkling was a foe unlike any other he had faced � more than just a physical match for Lazarus, he was a brilliant tactician as well. Lazarus had hoped to learn more about him by examining his home but those hopes had been quickly dashed. Though it was apparent that Harold Grant had slept here frequently, this was nothing more than a fa�ade � another mask, like the one that had crumpled beneath Lazarus� fists. This was not The Darkling�s true �home,� if such a thing even existed.

Harold Grant�s past was well documented, though much of it was now cast in doubt. But what kind of man was The Darkling? Since their second encounter, Lazarus had called upon all of his resources and they painted an unusual picture.

The first reference to The Darkling was in April 1931, though his appearances became more frequent as time passed. A spectral figure that haunted the New York underworld, The Darkling was alternately hailed as a hero by the downtrodden and as a merciless killer by those he hunted. Many in the underworld had become increasingly paranoid as rumors abounded that The Darkling had a network of agents infiltrating the highest echelons of both government and the mob.

As for The Darkling�s motivations, those seemed quite nebulous. Some people said he was no different than the criminals he killed, taking their loot and keeping it for himself. But others said that he had a perverse sense of morality, often going out of his way to help those who had hit skid row� and sometimes restoring not only their financial health but also their moral well being.

None of those who had supposedly been helped were easily found, however. It was all hearsay. Even the police were confused about The Darkling � some even going so far as to brand him some sort of urban myth, a bogeyman to frighten the hoods and crime lords.

Lazarus stood up, his eyes moving across the shelves. They were filled with books, most of which had obviously never been read. They looked as new as the ones that could be found in any upscale bookseller�s shop.

One particular volume, though, was different than the rest. The spine read The Rising of the Spirit and the top of the book looked worn, as if something had repetitively scuffed it in the same places.

Examining the book in close detail, Lazarus reached out and placed his fingers along the scuffed places. Sure enough, it felt like someone pressing down upon them over and over again caused the depressions that he noticed. He pushed down and heard the snap of something mechanical. The bookshelf swung open, revealing a set of stairs leading down into darkness.

Whereas many men would have experienced trepidation at the thought of venturing into the unknown, Lazarus merely checked to make sure that his gun and knife were within easy reach before stepping forth.

One way or another, The Darkling�s secrets would be his.

Jakob Sporrenberg�s eyes fluttered open. His brain was still fuzzy from the gas but he snapped to alertness when he realized that he was suspended from the ceiling chains wrapped tightly around his wrists. His feet barely scraped the floor and from the ache in his shoulders, he�d been hanging like this for some time.

The room he was in was painted white and had no windows. There was a single table and chair in the room, both of the sort that men might unfold for a card game or get-together with friends.

There was one visible exit � a door that swung open as Jakob stared at it. The man who entered wore a long coat that brushed against his ankles, a white mask that resembled a skull, a hat and gloves. Though he�d never seen him in person, Jakob knew who this must be: the description give by Lazarus was hard to forget.

�Where are my friends� Jakob asked, refusing to show any fear.

The Darkling regarded him coolly for a moment, saying nothing. The shadows in the room seemed to reach out for the masked man, embracing him. He seemed to both become more indistinct and larger at the same time. �I�ve read up on you, Jakob. And I think that you might be the sort of man who could serve at my side.�

�You�re insane if you think I�ll betray Lazarus. That will not happen.�

�Why? Because you�ve sworn your loyalty? Like you did to The F�hrer? You betrayed him easily enough.�

�Release me!� Sporrenberg shouted, pulling against his chains.

�Touched a nerve, did I?� The Darkling sat down, removing his hat and setting it on the table at his side. He reached and pulled away his mask, revealing a face lined with scars. His hair was missing in places, revealing the overly smooth skin that was left behind after terrible burns. �I want to tell you a story.�

�I don�t want to hear it.�

�I was once in your situation and I didn�t want to listen then, either. I was a pilot in the Great War � a damned good one. After years of not knowing who or what I really was, I found the truth: I was a killer. Unrestrained, that could have made me a bad person� but I killed the right people, for the winning side. That made me a hero. But then the war ended and there was no place for me any longer. So I traveled the world, meeting people, getting into fights and drinking myself into oblivion. Eventually I met a man named Harold Grant � he thought we were alike but he couldn�t have been more wrong. He was doing the same thing I was but he did it because he was bored. He gallivanted around, having adventures, in order to avoid real work. But when we ran into each other in a dingy little tavern in Tibet, we struck up a conversation. He told me about a forbidden sect of monks, hidden in the mountains. He said they lived in a veritable Shangri-La. They never aged, they never took part in the world�s conflicts. They lived alone, practicing arts that had horrified their brothers centuries before. In exchange for immortality and self-peace, you see, you had to give up a little bit of your soul. Grant wanted to find them � for kicks. Intrigued and with nothing better to do, I asked to accompany him. We set off together with no guides and little in the way of supplies. It was fun for him to play at games of life and death� whereas for me, it was part of my self-destructive cycle.�

�Is there some point to this?� Sporrenberg asked.

�There is but I don�t blame you for not showing patience. That�s a trait that has to be learned.� The Darkling leaned back in his chair, his scarred visage becoming impassive. His voice sounded distant now, as if he were lost in the mists of his own past. �We looked for that lost city for nearly three weeks, until we were half-starved and covered with bug bites. Grant finally died one night, without even making a sound. When I found him in the morning, I buried him in a tiny unmarked grave. I took the small bits of food he�d been hoarding, along with his papers and his money. I don�t know why � I�d never been a thief before but it seemed a waste to just bury them with his corpse. It wasn�t as if he was going to need them.�

�Eventually I fell into a coma-like state. I was malnourished and several times I would wake up screaming, gasping as my body fought to stay alive. It was the end of my existence� and then they came for me. The men from the hidden village found me and took me to their home. I remember one of them waking me up, staring down at me with an expression of pure relaxation. He asked me, �Do you wish to live?� I told him yes, I wanted to live� Now that death had me at its door, I realized how badly I wanted to avoid its touch. And then the man said, �Very well. But you must learn our ways. You must become one of us so that we may send someone forward into the dangerous world. Dark days are coming and though we are hesitant to interfere ourselves, we need a champion. You will be that champion. But you will learn to hate us first.� And he was right. I did hate them.�

Jakob ceased struggling, having realized that the bonds were simply too strong for him to break. Instead, he chose to begin conserving his energy, biding his time until his captor could make a mistake.

�They nursed me back to health,� The Darkling said, continuing his narrative. �And they locked me in a box, little more than a hole in the ground. It was completely dark, so that I couldn�t even see my hands in front of my face.�

On cue, the light in the room extinguished, leaving Sporrenberg squinting to make out his surroundings. It seemed to grow colder, as well, making the German shiver.

From very close to his left, The Darkling spoke again. �They taught me to see past the fa�ade of the living world. They showed me how to look into the darkness and see the truth. I�m going to do the same for you. But our minds are not receptive to darkness; it fears the absence of the light. So we have to bludgeon our way through, we have to batter our minds into submission. The way to do that is through pain.�

Sporrenberg started to speak but then he felt something jab into the side of his neck. There was a small prick as a needle pierced the skin and some kind of fluid flowed into his body. Agony followed within seconds, causing his body to flop like that of a fish out of water. He was in such torment that he didn�t even notice as The Darkling stepped away from him, picking up his mask and pulling it back into place.

Sporrenberg screamed at the top of his lungs, feeling like his life was careening towards a fiery end.

The darkness clung to him like a lover.

By the time Abby and Morgan found Lazarus, the team�s leader had been standing in the dungeon room for nearly twenty minutes. The stone walls were streaked with blood and implements of torture lay on the tables, alongside newspaper clippings, maps of various cities and a life-sized drawing of what the devil had probably looked like before his heart had been removed.

�What is this place?� Abby asked, stepping into the room with a look of disgust. �What kind of sick games did he play down here?�

�Must be where he�d get information out of his prisoners,� Morgan said, covering his mouth and nose with a handkerchief. He offered another to Abby, who waved it away. The smell of stale body odor was strong in the air.

�The blood is his,� Lazarus said, turning to face them. �All of these devices� he used them on himself.�

�How can you tell?� Morgan asked.

�You can tell a lot about a crime scene by examining the spray of blood. You can guess the height of the victim, where an attacker would have to be standing and so on. In this case, all of the blood splatter indicates a victim of Grant�s size and there�s no signs that another person would have had to inflict the damage.�

Abby knelt, running her fingertips through the dried blood on the floor. She�d offered to use her magical abilities on various items in the house and Lazarus had allowed her to do so � but only on things that he approved of. He was afraid of what she would see and what impact it would have on her� Which was kind of sweet, she supposed, but she also knew that it impaired her investigation.

Without bothering to ask for permission, she closed her eyes and whispered a set of words dating back to before the fall of Atlantis. Images began to flash across her mind�s eye, brought up from residual energies caught in The Darkling�s blood splatter. She saw a man � who, strangely, did not look like Harold Grant at all � in the basement room. He was nude and engaging in various activities: meditation, exercise and study� but he also engaged in painful self-abuse, all designed to open his mind to new ideas and thoughts.

Abby stood up with a shudder. �You�re right, Lazarus.� She avoided her employer�s gaze, knowing that he�d realize that she�d disobeyed his orders. �The Darkling is a strange one. He seems to believe that pain can open up doorways in his brain. Something like that. But you know what? I�m not sure he�s really Harold Grant. When he�s down here� he looks different.�

Lazarus ran a hand through his hair and began to head back upstairs. His companions followed closely behind. �We�re going to hire someone to keep an eye on this place, just in case The Darkling comes back. But we�re headed back to Sovereign City.�

�Shouldn�t we take off in search of the other body parts?� Morgan asked in confusion.

�I want to regroup with the others and compare notes first. We�ve been off-balance since this whole affair began and we can�t afford to make any more mistakes.� Lazarus stopped at the front door, touching the tiny radio hidden in his ear. He gestured for Morgan and Abby to continue out to the car. If they had remained behind, they would have seen his face become even more grim than usual.

�I understand, Samantha,� he said, having heard the distressing news that one of their number was missing. �I know this is going to be hard but I don�t want you or Eun going off looking for Jakob. Not yet. Return to headquarters immediately. This just confirms what I�ve already been thinking: The Darkling is not like any foe we�ve faced before. We�re going to have to change the rules of this game if we have any chance of winning.�

The remaining members of Assistance Unlimited were solemn as they sat in the meeting room of 6196 Robeson Avenue. Eun had been very vocal in his anger towards The Darkling, insisting that the group should abandon the quest for the devil�s body parts in favor of rescuing Sporrenberg. Everyone well remembered the antipathy that Eun had felt for the German early on and saw this as proof that Eun had accepted Jakob as a teammate and friend.

Lazarus stood up, approaching a global map that was tacked to the wall. He had previously placed photographs beside red-tipped pins on different areas of the map. �We know that The Darkling has both hands and the heart. That leaves three pieces that are still out there. Lunt�s information is a few years out of date but the last known locations for each are posted here. The torso was in the possession of Max Davies, our friend who has recently relocated to Atlanta.�

Samantha stirred. The lovely blonde still looked a bit jet-lagged but she was still stunning in a black skirt and cream-colored blouse. She remembered Max Davies very well � the handsome young playboy was secretly a masked vigilante known as The Peregrine. In his nocturnal identity, Max had aided Assistance Unlimited a few months prior to the Die Glocke affair. �Why would Max have something like that?�

�According to Lunt�s notes, The Peregrine smashed a cultist organization known as The Hidden Ones in 1930. The group had purchased the torso on the occult black market. Max could tell that the body part had some sort of black magic to it so he kept it.�

�Have you called him yet?� Morgan asked.

�I tried. He�s apparently away on business. His maid, a woman named Nettie, refused to tell me when he�d be back.� Lazarus tapped the pin, which was positioned above the word �Boston.� �Given that Max is still in the process of moving his belongings from Boston to Atlanta, I�m willing to bet that he hasn�t moved over his trophies and occult relics. If the torso were still in Boston, it would be in his old penthouse home.�

�Are we talking about breaking into Max�s house?� Samantha asked. There was something in her tone that suggested she found the idea equal parts shocking and exciting.

�I wouldn�t call it that,� Lazarus corrected. �Max would let us in if he were able.�

�But he�s not.�

�But he�s not,� Lazarus agreed.

�So who gets the boring task of visiting a rich guy�s penthouse?� Morgan inquired, obviously hoping that his name wasn�t about to be called.

�I want you to handle this one alone. It should be the least dangerous of the three remaining targets so you shouldn�t require backup.�

�But,� Morgan sputtered, leaning forward. �Why do I get the bum assignment?�

�Because you�ve been to Boston before and your familiarity with the city might come into play. Besides, I�m showing tremendous faith in you by doing this. You�re the only one of us who will be on his own.�

Morgan relaxed, realizing that his employer was being honest with him. Ever since the Die Glocke affair, Morgan had been a bit touchy about his age. As the oldest of the group, he was beginning to show the first stages of middle age, tiring before Eun or Samantha even began to pant. A lifetime of booze and cigarettes had weakened his system.

Hoping to change the subject, Samantha asked, �So where are the last two, Chief?�

Lazarus turned back to the board, pointing next to a pin affixed to the words �Cairo, Egypt.� �The legs were last known to be in the possession of Samir Ghanem, a collector of artifacts. Ghanem is believed to be involved in a wide variety of criminal activities, including slavery and opium running. He has contacts in both Britain and America. I want Abby and Eun to handle this one.�

Abby flashed a winning smile at Eun, who responded with a quick nod. Abby preferred working with men who might respond positively to her flirting but she liked Eun well enough and admired his skill.

Lazarus moved on to the final target. �The final target is perhaps the most dangerous of all, just because of the uses its owner could have put it to. I�m speaking of the devil�s head, which Lunt believed to be held by Paul Magritte, an architect who is very highly respected throughout Europe. He was one of the main contributors at the Brussels International Exposition that was held last year.�

�Doesn�t sound like the kind of guy who would own the devil�s skull,� Eun said. �Is he a closet warlock or something?�

�According to Lunt, he inherited it. His father was an amateur occultist who acquired the skull in Singapore. After his father�s death, the skull was part of a large number of relics that were bequeathed to Magritte.�

�Does he have any idea about what it is?� Morgan wondered aloud.

�No idea. But Lunt seemed convinced that Magritte wouldn�t part with any of those things. He apparently worshipped his father.�

Samantha smiled at her employer. �So I guess you and I are going to Brussels?�

�Yes.�

Abby raised a hand. �I�m confused about one thing, Lazarus. You said we were going to change the rules of the game� aside from juggling the lineups, it looks like we�re doing the same thing as before: splitting up to try and beat The Darkling to the sites.�

Lazarus nodded, crossing his arms over his chest. �That may be how it appears on the surface but I promise you, things are going to be different this time.�

�How?�

�Because The Darkling has made a terrible mistake in capturing Jakob. If you�ll recall, each of you is routinely injected with a harmless radioactive isotope. I�m able to trace those isotopes as long as they�re within range. I have plans to blanket this globe with tracers, narrowing things down until I know exactly where he�s got Jakob� and I�m betting that this will be someplace important to our enemy.�

�How do you know Jakob�s not dead?� Abby pressed.

�If The Darkling didn�t want Jakob alive, he would have killed him, just as he did Geist.�

�That makes sense,� Abby admitted, �but I don�t see how you�re going to find him! You said you were scanning the globe� How is that possible?�

�You�re going to be the key to that.� Lazarus exited the room and returned with a desktop-sized version of the isotope scanner. On the ends, however, were odd panels adorned with a number of mystic runes. Abby recognized enough of them to realize that they were used in scrying spells. �I want you to apply your power to this machine. It will be charged up by your occult energy, boosting its range tremendously. It will search each continent in turn � when it finds a hit, it will begin zeroing in, narrowing it down to a country, a region, a city, all the way down to a street. The results will eventually feed out on this ticker tape.�

�How in heaven�s name did you come up with that?� Morgan asked incredulously. He liked to think he�d grown accustomed to Lazarus and his amazing ideas but the truth was, nobody could become completely immune to such things.

�There was something similar that The Illuminati used to utilize, to keep track of rogue agents. They abandoned it when too many of us found out about it and came up with ways around it.�

Abby stood up and approached the device, reaching out to touch the strange panels on the side. �What do you want me to do?�

�Just channel your energy into the machine. It will do the rest.�

�You�re the boss.� Abby leaned over the table, pretending to be unaware of the way her lean body was stretched out by the position. Her rear was pointed out and she could feel Morgan�s eyes roving over it � but she wasn�t sure about Lazarus, though she could certainly hope.

Abby placed a palm on each panel and began focusing the magical energy that she sensed coursing through the world around her. In truth, a witch was nothing more than a conduit, calling upon ambient energy and giving it direction. Some environments were more rich in magic than others � the Assistance Unlimited headquarters was fairly neutral but there was still plenty for her to manipulate.

A light blue glow surrounded the machine and the panels began to shimmer, the symbols atop them becoming indistinct. They blurred together, as if in motion, and the machine hummed in response.

Standing up straight again, the lovely brunette looked at Lazarus and smiled. �Good enough?�

�More than.� Lazarus reached out and squeezed her arm. �Thank you.�

Morgan and Eun exchanged amused glances as Abby sashayed away from Lazarus. They were well aware of the effect their leader had on the opposite sex � in fact, Samantha had carried a brightly burning torch for the man until she�d finally realized that he was unlikely to ever court a teammate. Apparently, Abby hadn�t yet learned that lesson.

Lazarus watched the machine for a moment before finally letting out a long, slow breath. �We need to get started. Everyone be careful � and keep in close contact.�

The group dispersed, rushing to get together their equipment and supplies. Lurking in the background of their thoughts was concern for Jakob� and the terrible fear that Lazarus might be wrong: that he might have already met his end.

Jakob woke up with a start as cold water splashed into his face. He sputtered, immediately feeling pain lance through all of his muscles. Through bleary eyes, he saw a large Negro standing before him, a dripping pail held in his right hand.

With a friendly smile, the black man asked, �Bet you�re feelin� a little bit hungry, huh? The boss said I could give you a bite to eat if, you asked nicely.�

Jakob recognized the man�s drawl as being Southern American but he was in no mood to care about the fellow�s background. He was the enemy. �Let me down,� he said hoarsely.

�My name�s Earl,� was the reply, as if Jakob�s demand had never been heard. Setting down the pail, Earl moved to pick up a small tray containing a glass of milk and a small sandwich. �I can feed you.�

�Get away from me,� Jakob snarled, turning his head to the side when Earl approached with the tray.

�It�s not drugged, I promise ya. You�re gonna need your strength.�

�Go to hell,� Jakob muttered. When Earl didn�t make any move, the German sighed and looked at him once more. �Did you go through this, too? Did he hang you up by your arms and torture you?�

Earl�s eyes shifted away from Jakob�s gaze and for a long moment, he seemed uncertain about how to respond. But when he finally turned back to Jakob, he seemed at peace. �I didn�t do this. Not exactly. I had my own trial that I had to endure. But it hurt. And there was a point where I was screaming for the boss�s blood, let me tell ya. But eventually I saw what I needed to see.�

�And what was that?�

�Well, the Injuns� they say that when a man is on the brink of death, his spirit goes on a quest of sorts. And that eventually what you find is yourself, reflected back at ya like a mirror. This is your true self, mind you, not what we all like to pretend we are. When you see that reflection, you�ve got two choices: you can die, moving on to the afterlife with a clear view of who you and what you did; or you can fight your way back to the living world. But if you do that, you�re gonna be changed. No man can see the truth about himself and the world and not be different on the way back.�

�And did you see yourself?� Jakob asked in a mocking tone of voice.

�I did. And what I saw changed me forever.� Earl held up the tray one last time. �Are you certain you will not eat?�

�I�d rather starve.�

�Suit yourself.� Earl set the tray down on the table and bent down to retrieve a small box that was just out of Jakob�s range of vision. When he stood up again, he held a coiled whip in his left hand. �I will not enjoy this but the path is clear.�

Jakob�s eyes narrowed. �Don�t do this. Help me down and I�ll get you away from him. Whatever hold he�s got on you� it�s not right. You know that!�

�You�re wrong.� Earl�s smile returned and though he seemed genuinely sad about what he was doing, he obviously felt that he was right in doing it. �Someday, you�ll understand.� He uncoiled the whip and cracked it, making Jakob jump. �You�ll even thank me.�

Samantha leaned back in the copilot�s chair, enjoying the heavy thrum of the engines. Lazarus had purchased this plane during the early days of Assistance Unlimited, modifying it for long-distance travel. She marveled at his ability to handle the aircraft so skillfully and with a mischievous grin on her face, she wondered if he could do so while being a bit distracted.

�So you and Kelly aren�t dating any longer?�

The normally placid features of Lazarus Gray shifted slightly, revealing his discomfort. It would have been invisible to almost anyone but Samantha Grace, who was astute at observation. �Miss Emerson and I are merely good friends.�

�Hmm.� Samantha looked out at the landscape below and smiled. Kelly Emerson was the daughter of the Sovereign Museum�s curator and she�d shared a brief but torrid affair with Lazarus, one that had been rekindled during the Die Glocke case. �I guess that explains why she was dining at Giovanni�s with Robert Williams the other night.�

After a brief moment of silence, Lazarus cleared his throat. �Mr. Williams is a journalist who frequently covers exhibitions at the museum. It makes sense that they would be close.�

�They appeared very close.�

�What do you mean?�

Samantha looked over at him, a brief flicker of amusement in her eyes. �You�re jealous.�

�I am not jealous.�

�You are!�

Lazarus began to angle the plane so that it could land at the Brussels airport. �All I did was ask for clarification about what you said.�

�It�s okay, you know. You can be human every once in awhile.�

The plane shuddered as the wheels touched down to the ground. �I am not jealous.�

�You already said that.�

�We should focus on the mission.�

�When we get back, I might give Kelly a call,� Samantha said breezily. �Invite her over.�

As the plane came to a halt, Lazarus exhaled and looked over at his friend. �You�ll talk me up, I assume?�

Samantha burst out laughing. �Sure,� she said, with an unladylike snort. �I promise.�

Lazarus smiled slightly. �See? Human.�

Morgan Watts yawned as he slid out from behind the wheel of his sedan. He looked around at the busy Boston streets and smiled. He�d always loved �Beantown� and during his mob days, he�d volunteer for any assignment that required travel there. There was something about the place that spoke to him on a primal level: the age of the buildings, the weighty feeling of history that clung to the one-way streets. He adored it.

Morgan approached the large apartment building, tipping his fedora at the doorman, who held open the door with a smile. Morgan glanced around the expansive foyer and made his way to the elevator, where an attendant asked him what floor he wanted.

�Penthouse.�

The attendant, a sallow-faced man with red hair, looked apologetic. �I�m sorry, sir, but Mr. Davies has relocated.�

�His stuff is still here, right?�

�Well, yes. But I don�t see�.�

�Then that�s what I�m here for.� Morgan reached into a pocket and pulled out his wallet.

The attendant made a sour expression. �Sir, bribery will get you nowhere.�

�Then it�s a good thing I�m not trying to bribe you.� Morgan pulled out a small card that he handed to the man. It read:

�Have you heard of us?� he asked, a smile on his face.

The effect on the attendant was comical. He stood up straight, his eyes widening, and he goggled at Morgan for a moment before finding the confidence to speak. �Yes, sir! Of course I have, sir!� Lowering his voice, he asked, �Is Lazarus Gray with you?�

��Fraid not, kid. He�s in Brussels. You gonna take me up?�

�Yes, sir!� The attendant closed the gate and started the lift, still staring at Morgan with adoring eyes. �What�s she like?� he asked as the lift came to a stop.

�Who?�

�Samantha Grace. Is she as beautiful in real life as she is in the pictures?�

�Brother, she�s ten times prettier in person.�

�Wow,� the attendant said with admiration. He was still grinning and shaking his head as the lift began its descent. �Oh!� he shouted, realizing that he�d forgotten something. �Do you need me to unlock the door for you?�

As the attendant began to vanish from view, Morgan raised his voice and said, �Don�t worry about it, pal. I can handle it from here.�

Morgan approached the door that led to Max Davies� old home, an amused smile on his face. There was a small piece of paper affixed to the door that directed all inquiries to an address in Atlanta. Morgan couldn�t imagine putting up with the stifling weather in the South � but then again, if girls like Abby were grown down there, that was a plus.

Morgan was about to pick the lock when he heard a muffled voice from behind the door. It was quickly followed by the sounds of stealthy movement.

Suddenly tense, Morgan looked back to the elevator car. Had he just been played by the attendant? Or did the men in Max�s apartment come up via the stairs, bypassing the attendant completely?

Drawing his pistol, Morgan reached out with his free hand and lightly turned the doorknob. It opened silently and he peered inside. The lights were on and two men, both dressed in dark suits and ties, were standing with their backs to Morgan. The men were young-looking, barely out of their teens and they were trying without much success to open a large set of double-doors that were locked.

Morgan recognized that they were speaking German but unlike some of his teammates, he was not fluent in that tongue. He saw one of the men � a blond � taking out a gun and pointing it at the lock. One gunshot later and the door was being kicked open, revealing a room that was filled from floor to ceiling with boxes and display cases.

As the Germans let out exclamations of victory, Morgan slipped into the penthouse, letting the door fall quietly shut behind him.

�Hands up, gentlemen,� Morgan said. The two men whirled about, their eyes wide. One of them reached for a gun holstered under his jacket and Morgan responded by shooting him in the shoulder. The blow knocked him back against the wall and he left behind a bloody smear as he slid to the ground.

�You guys understand English?� he asked, moving the barrel of the gun so that it pointed towards the standing German.

�Da. I mean, yes,� the man said with a nod.

�Good. Now, tell me how you boys ended up here.�

The man swallowed hard before answering. �I am Fritz. My friend is Albert. We are old friends of Max Davies and�.�

Morgan cocked the pistol. �Try again. The truth this time.�

Albert crawled to his knees, one hand clutched over his injured shoulder. �We serve the Fatherland. You know that, Herr Watts.�

�I�m flattered that you recognize me.�

�You shouldn�t be. Our spies are located throughout your Jew-backed government! We know that you and your friends are looking for the same things that we are!�

Morgan tried to avoid letting his emotions show. Lazarus had been updating the military brass with their findings, on the condition that they allow him to handle the search. But now it appeared that there was a mole in the agency, passing information back on to the Nazis. �Well, you boys are both going to love explaining yourselves to the authorities.�

Fritz moved with surprising speed, throwing himself to the ground and rolling behind the couch. He sprang up a second later, gun in hand, and Morgan found himself taking cover around a corner hallway. Albert followed suit, though his aim was quite poor due to his blood loss.

Morgan winced as a priceless porcelain vase exploded in front of him. He�d have to hope that Max had a good insurance policy on this stuff.

Morgan spun about, putting him at risk for a moment as he took aim and fired. His first bullet struck home, nailing Albert once more. This time, the blow was a fatal one, as a bright red rose bloomed across the Nazi�s chest.

Fritz muttered a curse and jumped up. He barreled into Max�s treasure room, knocking the door aside with his shoulder. He vanished from Morgan�s sight, ducking behind a number of boxes.

Morgan approached cautiously, pausing only to kick at Albert�s body, making sure that the man was truly dead. Confident that he was, Morgan focused his attention on the room ahead of him. The display cases showed a variety of prizes: small Incan statues, a leather-bound book, ritual knives� but it was the labeled boxes that caught Morgan�s eye. The stenciled words on the side boggled the mind: Vampire�s Teeth; Holy Weapons; and Crawling Undead all brought evil thoughts to the forefront of Morgan�s head.

Morgan hesitated at the doorway. �Fritz� I don�t want to kill you. I really don�t. You�re a soldier, doing what you�re told. I can respect that. Hell, Jakob Sporrenberg is one of us now. Have you heard of him? I can offer the same thing to you� put down your gun, come out and tell me what you know. I�ll take care of you.�

Fritz stood up, his head barely visible over a row of boxes. He was panting, eyes wide with fear. �How do I know you�re telling the truth?�

�You don�t. But what choice do you have? Even if you get lucky and kill me, that�s just going to put Lazarus and the rest of Assistance Unlimited on your tail. Is that what you want? Because they�ll hunt you to the ends of the earth.�

Fritz looked away, shaking his head. �I cannot betray my oath. I am sworn to serve the F�hrer.�

�There�s no shame in losing, pal.�

�You are wrong. There is. Honor is often the only thing a man has.� Fritz�s pistol swung into view and Morgan tensed, preparing to squeeze the trigger.

Fritz placed the barrel of the gun against his own temple, his eyes now focused on Morgan�s.

�No,� Morgan said. �Don�t!�

The German pulled the trigger.

Abby and Eun strode through the crowded streets of Cairo, attracting a good bit of attention as they weaved through a bazaar. Abby wore jodhpurs and a khaki shirt but she still managed to somehow look borderline obscene due to the tightness of both. Eun, meanwhile, wore loose-fitting slacks and a sleeveless shirt of local variety.

Cairo was alive with activity and the marketplace was the beating heart of the city. The sights and sounds were unfamiliar to Abby and the Southern girl stared openly at the unusual fare being offered for sale.

�Stay close to me,� Eun warned, noting the way many eyes roved up and down Abby�s frame.

�Why? Afraid someone�s going to rough me up and sell me into white slavery?�

�Don�t scoff. Stranger things have happened.�

�First off, any rapist in these parts who grabbed me would be in for a shock. Secondly, I feel perfectly safe with you around to protect me.�

Eun sighed. Abby�s teasing was good-natured but it got a little old. Maybe it was because, as a homosexual, he wasn�t as distracted by her figure as the other men seemed to be. �There�s where we�re supposed to find Samir Ghamen.�

The Kafe Klaris lay situated between a small temple and a supply store. Opened a few years prior, it catered to tourists, playing up their misconceptions about Egypt�s history. At night, the band played modern tunes while swathed in bandages while the waitresses wore elaborate but inaccurate period clothing. Sarcophagi and stuffed cats were artfully arranged for full effect.

The duo stepped into the club and Abby coughed as the smell of smoke stung her nostrils. It clung in thick clouds in the place and Eun waved away some of it, frowning as he gazed at the pseudo-historical interior. Given the trouble they�d had with Princess Femi, the reanimated Egyptian sorceress, none of Assistance Unlimited was too keen on mummies or their trappings.

�Is that our guy?� Abby asked, directing Eun�s attention to a booth on the far corner. Samir Ghamen was enjoying a meal with two other men and a very beautiful but sad looking woman. The men were talking animatedly, their fingers and lips dripping with grease, while the female in their company kept her eyes downcast.

Samir himself was a grossly fat man with a dark beard. He wore a turban adorned by a glittering ruby. He laughed loudly, an obnoxious sound that carried over the din of the club.

�That�s him,� Eun muttered. �Let�s wait outside. When he leaves, we can take out his goons and question him.�

Abby chuckled. �You always want to punch things. We can do this without a fight, you know?�

Eun crossed his arms over his chest. A pretty young waitress dressed like an Egyptian slave approached him but she turned away after receiving a glare. �You think you can go over and bat your eyelashes, then have him tell you where the torso is?� he asked Abby.

�I probably could,� Abby countered. �But you�re forgetting that I�m more than a pretty face. I�m a witch, too.�

�What do you have in mind?�

Abby reached into the valley between her breasts and her fingers came out with a small silver vial. She twisted open the lid and dabbed a bit of moisture behind each ear. �Grab a seat and enjoy the show,� she said, her lips parting in a smile.

Paul Magritte was a handsome man but his attractiveness was matched, if not surpassed, by his ego. Even now, as he dressed in a finely tailored suit, he admired his reflection in the mirror. He sometimes considered his lovers to be among the luckiest on earth: for they got to experience the pleasure of being intimate with him.

And his ego extended beyond his appearance. He also considered himself a genius and the most talented architect in the world. In truth, there was very little that he felt he could not accomplish � especially with his �friend� to help him.

After adjusting his tie, Magritte sauntered through his affluent home. He nodded politely at his maid, who blushed as they passed one another. He had not yet taken her to his bed but he would in due time. He was putting it off because women had a tendency to become obsessed with him and that affected their work � and the girl was particularly good at cleaning, so he hated to lose her. But he knew she desired him and he considered it almost cruel to not let her have a little taste.

A knock at the front door brought a smile to his face. A quick glance at the clock told him that his guest was exactly on time. He liked that. Punctuality was a sign of good graces.

Magritte waited in the study, one hand in the pocket of his coat and the other casually posed with a glass of wine in his hand. He timed it just so that his guest entered the room as Magritte was seemingly moving the glass away from his lips. He turned in mock surprise, setting down his drink and moving to greet the new arrival.

�Harold Grant!� Magritte boomed, heartily shaking the other man�s hand. �I was so surprised to hear from you. What brings you to Brussels?�

Grant gave a shrug of his shoulders and took a seat when Magritte offered it. He wasn�t quite as good looking as Magritte but he made up for it in a sense of confidence that exuded from him. Magritte found it utterly charming and always had, ever since they had first crossed each other�s path. There was something about Grant that made everyone � even Magritte � want to impress him. �I heard you might have an item in your collection that appeals to me. I was wondering if I might persuade you to sell it to me.�

Magritte sat down near Grant, their knees touching. �Are you talking about my sexual photographs?� he asked excitedly. �I recently came into possession of a series of photos of an American actress who is famed for her virginal portrayals on-screen. But trust me, she is anything but in these pictures!� Magritte�s eyes lit up as he talked and he leaned forward, lighting resting one hand on Grant�s knee in good humor.

�I�m talking about your magical relics, actually,� Grant said, gently removing Magritte�s hand from his leg.

�Oh.� Magritte tried to not look disappointed but failed miserably. �Most of those things belonged to Papa. I don�t deal with them much. I really only drag them out for parties.�

�I�m willing to pay you virtually anything.�

�Anything?� Magritte chuckled. �Well, that is intriguing. What item are we talking about here?�

�The Devil�s skull.�

The expression on Magritte�s face became frozen. He clasped his hands together to keep them from shaking but it was obvious that he had not expected those words to come from his guest�s lips. �I don�t know what you�re talking about,� he stammered, trying to laugh it off. �Maybe you�ve got the wrong person.�

�I don�t think so,� Grant replied. Now it was his turn to lean towards the other man. �I know you have it. We can make this very simple if you sell it to me. You get your money, I get the skull� no one gets hurt.�

Magritte stood up, shaking his head. With a confused chuckle, he said, �Now you�re sounding like some American gangster.�

�I�m serious,� Grant said testily.

Magritte smoothed down his suit and frowned. �In that case, you should go. That item is not for sale.�

�Why? Because you�re using it?� Grant rose from his chair, advancing towards Magritte, who began backing away slowly. �Is that how you�ve made all those investments that always seem to work out, just so? And the unusual way that other architects who are up for the same jobs you want end up in terrible accidents? It�s a demonic force, Paul. It corrupts anyone who handles it.�

�How do you even know about it?� Magritte asked, fumbling in the pocket of his jacket. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it with trembling fingers.

�What�s more important is the fact that I�m not the only one who knows about it. The Germans are going to be here soon and they�re going to tear this place apart looking for the skull. Your best bet is to not have it at all. Give it to me.�

�I can�t sell it. It�s priceless! It�s my friend� without it, I�d be nothing!�

Magritte could feel the intensity of Grant�s stare and for the first time, he realized that something was different about the man. The way he stood, the voice he was now using� even the way the shadows seemed to cling to his frame� It was like he was becoming another man, right before Magritte�s eyes.

�What� what�s going on?� Magritte stammered.

Suddenly Grant was right in front of him, so close that their noses were almost touching. The power that radiated from Grant�s gaze was overwhelming and Magritte couldn�t have turned away if he�d tried.

�You�re a weak man, Paul Magritte,� Grant said in a voice that was so cold that it brought a shudder down Paul�s spine. �I hope that in your next life you find the strength to say no to your vices.�

Magritte gasped as something cold and sharp penetrated his midsection. He looked down to see Grant�s hand gripping a blade, the hilt of which was now protruding from Magritte�s own body. Grant yanked upward and to the side with the blade, opening up a fountain of blood that sprayed onto the expensive carpet.

The body was just hitting the floor when another knock came at the door. Mimicking Magritte�s voice perfectly, The Darkling shouted, �I�ll get it myself!�

�As you wish, sir,� came the reply from another room.

Confident that his acting abilities were up to the task, The Darkling pushed the matter by adding, �Go ahead and retire to your rooms, all of you! Do not disturb my guests and I!�

The Darkling crept to the door as another series of knocks ensued. The hired help were obviously used to Magritte�s desires for privacy, which played well for The Darkling�s purposes.

Peering through the peephole, The Darkling had to stifle a sigh of annoyance. Lazarus Gray and Samantha Grace were standing there, oblivious to the fact that their enemy was on the other side of the door.

Gray was becoming a major nuisance but The Darkling still hoped to avoid killing him. Gray and his ilk had their place in the world and The Darkling admired him for his dedication� but in this case, his quest was a misplaced one: The Darkling alone could handle the power of the reassembled devil.

Still using Magritte�s voice, The Darkling spoke through the door. �I�m afraid you�ll have to come back in the morning. I�m not accepting visitors at this hour!�

Lazarus noticed the peephole and addressed it with his words. �Mr. Magritte, we need to speak to you on a matter of extreme urgency. My name is Lazarus Gray and this is Samantha Grace. We�ve come from the United States.�

�Very well. Give me a moment to pull on a robe.� The Darkling backed away from the door, his deft hands already yanking away the false face features that gave him the appearance of Harold Grant. He dropped the items in his pocket and hurriedly looked around the apartment. He had only moments to find the skull � but where would Magritte have hidden it? It wasn�t the sort of thing that could be set on a mantle somewhere� but The Darkling surmised that Magritte wouldn�t have left it where he couldn�t access it with ease.

The Darkling moved quickly, examining the study for any false walls or hidden panels. Finding nothing, he moved from room to room, finally coming to Magritte�s bedroom. As soon as he stepped into the sleeping area, he felt that the air had a different ambience. It almost seemed to crackle as he moved through it, his sensitive psychic nature picking up on the presence of great power.

He followed that sensation until he came to a large chest of drawers. On top of the chest was a black box and as he reached for it, The Darkling knew what lay within. He unlatched the lid and flipped it back, revealing the skull of the demon. Bits of mummified flesh clung here and there but it was the sharp canines and small horns on the forehead that truly made it look awful.

A foul odor wafted from the skull and a ghostly voice asked, �Ask. Ask me what you wish to know. I�ll tell you. I�ll tell you the most terrible of things � I�ll tell you Truth.�

The Darkling stared at the foul thing and made a noise of disgust. �I�ve already seen past the darkness. My vision is pure.� He slammed shut the box�s lid and lifted it up, holding it under one arm.

Even before he turned, he knew that he was no longer alone. Lazarus Gray and Samantha Grace stood in the doorway, both looking at him with expressions of interest. They didn�t recognize him, of course, having only seen him in his guises of The Darkling and Harold Grant. The face he now wore was very nearly his true one, though his scars were hidden by makeup and an expensive hairpiece covered his burned scalp.

�Put the box down,� Lazarus said.

�You picked the lock on the door,� The Darkling said. �That�s breaking and entering.�

Lazarus was obviously in no mood for games. He drew a pistol and pointed it squarely at The Darkling�s head. �Who are you working for?� he asked.

A slow smile spread across The Darkling�s face and he realized that he was enjoying this. Despite the frustrations that Lazarus presented, it was good to finally find someone who was something of an equal, a sparring partner who could genuinely test his abilities. �Justice,� he whispered.

The Darkling hurled the box at Samantha�s head and the pretty young blonde let out a cry of surprise as she ducked out of the way. Lazarus began firing as The Darkling lowered his shoulder and barreled into him. The first bullet grazed The Darkling�s back but the second missed him completely, striking the wall behind chest of drawers.

Lazarus wrapped his arms around The Darkling, not wanting to let the vigilante escape again. The two men crashed hard into the wall but The Darkling was able to deliver several quick rabbit punches into Gray�s midsection, freeing himself.

While the two men were squaring off, Samantha had snatched up the box. After checking to make sure that the skull was still inside, she bolted from the room, nearly colliding with the frightened butler who had come to investigate the sound of gunfire.

�Get out!� she yelled, shoving at the man. �Go call the police!�

Back in the bedroom, The Darkling and Lazarus were trading blows. Just as in their first meeting, the two men were evenly matched, their limbs a blur as they blocked each other�s movements.

Lazarus managed to evade The Darkling�s defenses long enough to punch him in the cheek but the response � a powerful kick to the midsection, left Lazarus stumbling off-balance.

As The Darkling threw a punch aimed at his head, Lazarus ducked under the blow and grabbed hold of the other man�s arm. He slammed his elbow down upon it, cracking the bone but not completely breaking it.

The Darkling hissed in pain, yanking his arm free. It hung limply at his side but Lazarus knew that even with one arm, the man was still extremely dangerous.

�Where is Jakob?� Lazarus asked, delivering a punch that tagged The Darkling on the chin.

�He�s being improved,� The Darkling answered. �I�m taking him to the next level of his consciousness.�

Lazarus stepped back and took aim with his gun. �At this range, there�s no way I can miss. Don�t make me kill you.�

�Would you do that, Lazarus?� he asked. �You must have figured out who I am by now � that I�m not just some Nazi agent. I�m The Darkling. But have I really done enough to warrant death? Are you prepared to be judge, jury and executioner?�

�I still haven�t figured out what your game is, Darkling,� Lazarus said, avoiding the question. �Are you some sort of misguided vigilante? Or are you just another lunatic criminal, rationalizing your actions?�

�Can�t I be both? Or neither? Labels only begin to define who we are.�

Lazarus lowered the barrel of his gun, intending to wound, rather than kill. A quick shot in each leg would end the battle, he reasoned.

As he pulled the trigger, something unusual occurred. Lazarus was suddenly unable to tell exactly where The Darkling stood � Was he right in front of him? To the left? Or in the far corner? Lazarus felt as if a dense fog had clouded his mind.

The bullets ripped through the room but none found their target. The Darkling was past him and out of the room before Lazarus realized that he had been tricked.

Giving chase, Lazarus burst into the study, only to find that The Darkling had vanished. Samantha stood steadfast in the corner, the box clutched in her hand.

�Did you see him?� Lazarus asked.

�I thought so but it looked like a shadow moving across the room. I couldn�t even tell it was human.�

�Damn,� Lazarus cursed, displaying uncharacteristic anger. �But we got the skull so this wasn�t a total loss.�

Samantha opened the box and grinned. The evil relic was inside, its stench not enough to override her joy at their victory. �So if the others fulfilled their jobs, then we might have saved the day. The Darkling can�t put the body back together again and neither can the Nazis!�

Lazarus nodded, still unnerved by The Darkling�s escape. No matter what, the mysterious figure had the heart and both arms� not to mention Jakob. There were far too many loose ends for him to feel that they had truly made any progress.

Abby slid into the booth across from Samir Ghanem, ignoring the shocked looks of Samir�s companions. She leaned forward, displaying a breathtaking amount of cleavage. She�d made sure to unbutton her shirt just so on the way over and as Samir�s eyes widened, she knew that she�d made the right choice. �Excuse me for being so forward, but are you Samir Ghanem?�

�Indeed I am, my lovely. And to whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?�

�Abigail Cross. I�m from America.�

�So I had guessed.� Samir�s eyes remained fixed on her breasts as he talked and he noisily sucked his fingers clean. �Why have you sought me out, beautiful one?�

Abby shyly looked away. �Well� I�m here with friends and we�re looking to have a good time. Someone told me that you were the man who might get us what we wanted.�

�Such as�?�

Abby looked up at Samir, seeing the hunger in his eyes. The solution that she�d dabbed behind each ear contained herbs that could weaken the will of men. Coupled with her own natural seductive abilities, it was a potent combination that few could resist. �I�m embarrassed to say,� she coyly whispered. �It�s illegal.�

Samir laughed, enjoying the game he sensed the American was playing. He liked Western women � they were so brazen. He gestured to the other men at the table, shooing them away. They hesitated but finally stood up. The woman at his side was more than ready to vacate her spot, practically fleeing the scene when he gestured for her to leave.

�Now,� he said, �We are all alone. You do not have to be so sensitive. Tell me what you need. I swear to you that I will do all in my power to please you.�

�Aren�t you just the sweetest old thing?� Abby declared, playfully swatting Samir�s hand.

The Egyptian seemed entranced. �Now, my lovely, tell me what you desire.�

Abby�s tone of voice shifted dramatically. She could see from the slightly glazed look in his eyes that her elixir had done its work. He was lost in her beauty, his will sapped completely. �There�s something you have � supposedly it�s part of the devil�s body.�

�Satan�s legs!� Samir hissed, a smile spreading across his facer. �I have those. But I cannot sell them, my sweet. They are priceless. To touch them is to touch something greater than mankind. It is to caress the infinite!�

�Eww,� she answered. �Well, let�s not get into what you do with the things. I want to focus on getting hold of them. Where are they?�

�They�re in my home. But, as I said, I cannot sell them.�

�Honey, I don�t want to buy them.�

Samir seemed to relax. �You just wish to see them? That, I can do!�

�Take me there now.� Abby smiled wickedly. �I�ll be so grateful.�

Samir stood up and offered her his elbow. He sauntered past the men who were waiting for him, ignoring the shocked looks on their faces. Within moments, he and Abby were striding through the streets of Cairo, chatting away. Eun was following close behind, somehow managing to look casual despite how out of place he appeared.

The duo stopped outside a well-tended home on the outskirts of town. A swarthy guard stood outside and he bowed low as he held the door open for Samir and his guest. Before the man had straightened up, Eun had dispatched him with a quick chop to the neck. After dragging the guard�s body into the shadows, the young Korean slipped inside.

Eun walked right up behind Samir and tapped him on the shoulder. As the older man spun about, Eun delivered a palm thrust to the man�s chin that sent him stumbling back. A swinging leg kick ended the conflict, dropping Samir to the floor.

Abby stood with arms crossed over her breasts. �What the hell are you doing?� she asked hotly.

�What do you mean? We�re in his house. We don�t need him anymore.�

�You�re a hotheaded idiot!� Abby tossed her hair and looked around, hoping that Samir didn�t have any houseguests. �It would have been nice if you�d waited until he told me where the legs are.�

�You�re the witch. Do a spell.�

Abby rolled her eyes. She moved through the home, amazed at the opulence on display. Since arriving in Cairo, she�d seen children starving in the streets and people who looked like they hadn�t bathed in weeks, if not months. But Samir was right here in town, with expensive tapestries, fresh fruit on the table and clean water for him to wash his hands in.

She had just begun to worry that finding the legs might prove to be a problem when she entered the man�s library. It was filled with leather-bound books and several comfortable-looking chairs� but it was the gruesome treasures on the wall that caught her eye. Two mummified legs were mounted over a small futon. They rested in a wooden frame covered by glass, like some grisly form of couch art.

Eun wandered in behind her. �Sorry,� he muttered. �You�re right. I should have been more patient.�

�It doesn�t matter. I found them.�

Eun looked up in surprise, his gaze traveling over the displayed limbs. �I can�t believe it.�

�I know. I was expecting more of a hunt. I guess we got here before the Nazis or The Darkling.�

�I�m not going to complain,� Eun said, stepping up on the futon and lifting off the display. He set it down with a grunt. �If the others came through, then we�ll have three of the six sets of body parts.�

Abby laughed, having forgotten how angry she�d been only a moment before. �Chalk one up for the good guys.�

Neither of them noticed that a shadowy figure was watching them, nor that the woman slipped away without a sound. Once outside, the female hurried away, knowing that she�d missed her opportunity.

Her superiors in Berlin would not be pleased.

Karl Raeder strode from the U-Bahn into the heart of Nazi power. The city was its customary dull gray, a color matched by the skies above. The pavement was slick from a rain that had ceased only an hour before and Raeder�s black boots smacked loudly through each and every puddle.

Reichsf�hrer-SS Heinrich Himmler had sent a briefly worded message to Raeder just after dawn, summoning the handsome young officer from the arms of a big-breasted woman named Elsa. Karl had been seeing her behind the back of her husband for several months but he was tiring of her � the longing in her eyes was beginning to transform from lust to love and that was something that Raeder had little tolerance for.

Raeder was dressed to the hilt this morning, his SS uniform pressed and polished. On the way over, he�d been viewed with both fear and awe, which pleased him. He liked the theatricality of the Nazi regime, which reminded him of his brother, who had been an actor before dying in an automobile accident.

Raeder cut a fine figure in his uniform: reddish-blond hair, handsome and trim. An author of seven books on Aryan heritage, a crack shot, a scientist and fluent in four languages, Raeder was beloved by ardent Nazis and feared by his enemies.

Himmler was waiting for him in the caf� located in the lobby of the Prinz-Albrecht-Palais Hotel, which was known as Number 9 around the city. Next door was Number 8, the most infamous address in Berlin, for it was the home of the Reich Security Ministry, which included both the SS and Gestapo.

Himmler looked up from his newspaper and black coffee, offering a brief nod to Raeder. With round spectacles, a receding chin and narrow shoulders, the Reichsf�hrer-SS looked more like a banker or professor than one of the most powerful men in the country. Himmler was pale, with a thin mustache and well-manicured hands. There was an air of artificiality around Himmler, as if Raeder was never seeing the true man beneath but instead some fa�ade.

�Untersturmf�hrer,� the security minister began as Raeder took his seat. �We have heard from our agent in Cairo. She says that Assistance Unlimited has recovered the devil�s legs. We believe they also have the head and torso.�

�And the remainder are in the possession of The Darkling?� Raeder asked. The conversation paused as a waitress stepped over and took the young officer�s order: plain toast, not too blackened, with coffee and cream.

�That�s our assumption.� Himmler sighed and took a sip of his coffee. �It goes without saying that your loyalty must not be in doubt.�

�Then why bring it up?�

Himmler smiled coolly though his eyes remained fixed. �Have The Illuminati mentioned anything about this quest of ours?�

Raeder involuntarily winced. He had been approached by the shadowy organization shortly before he�d been made an officer in the S.S. He had immediately gone to Himmler himself with the news that he had been contacted. To his surprise, Himmler had told him to join the group and accept their indoctrination. Now he was a mole within The Illuminati, a dangerous game that was continually threatened by Himmler�s preference of talking about it openly.

�I worry you?� Himmler asked.

�You do,� Raeder admitted. �They have eyes and ears everywhere.�

�Not here,� the Reichsf�hrer-SS replied with confidence. �Here we are secure. The Gestapo has assured me of this.�

But The Illuminati has men inside the Gestapo, Raeder thought. He kept that to himself, however. There was only so much resistance Himmler would stand for. Instead, he inclined his head and said �I have heard nothing new. The Illuminati is still recovering from the many wounds inflicted upon them by Lazarus Gray. They are aware of the search for the body parts but as far as I know, they have not sent agents of their own to intervene.�

�Perhaps they should.�

�Sir?�

�Our own search was led by Agent Geist, who is now dead. Our subsequent attempts have been fraught with failure. The F�hrer is not happy and has refused my request for more resources. So I was thinking that perhaps we could piggyback on The Illuminati. Use them to do our dirty work, as it were, and then take it from them at the proper time.�

�A dangerous gambit,� Raeder replied.

�Could you persuade them to steal the relics?� Himmler persisted.

�I could suggest it but I am not a high-ranking member.� Raeder paused a moment as his toast and coffee were brought to him. He waited until the waitress was gone, ignoring her come hither glances. �We may have waited too long, I am afraid. In order for them to get the body parts now, they would need to track down The Darkling� and then they would need to stage a breakin at the Assistance Unlimited headquarters. Neither would be easy. To do both would be nearly impossible.�

�In that case, I have no choice.� Himmler set his napkin on the table and smoothed it out, obviously preparing himself to give some grave pronouncement. �If we cannot use The Illuminati, then I will task you with this personally. You are not to return to Berlin without all six body parts.�

Raeder stared at Himmler, letting those words sink in. �There is only one way that I could possibly accomplish that task,� he said at last, surprised to find that his mouth had gone dry.

�I have faith in you,� Himmler replied. He stood up, Raeder hurrying to follow suit. After a perfunctory exchange of Heil Hitlers, Raeder was left alone. He sat down heavily, cursing under his breath.

In addition to all of his other accolades, Raeder was a graduate of the Occult Forces Project, Hitler�s pride and joy. The OFP was designed to not only make use of supernatural relics and papers but also to create a new breed of soldier: one that was charged with power from beyond this world. While Strauss became the spectral Geist, Raeder had become� something quite different.

He finished his toast in silence before draining his coffee. He began the slow walk back to the U-Bahn, already planning his next move. The message had been clear: he either succeeded or he was no longer welcome in Berlin.

Given that choice, Lazarus Gray and his friends � along with The Darkling � were sacrifices that had to be made.

Karl Raeder � dubbed The Silver Wolf by his OFP handlers � would make sure of that.

Jakob Sporrenberg wasn�t sure how long he�d been in the custody of The Darkling. All concept of time had been lost in a seemingly never-ending series of torments. His feet ached from the flame that had been put to them hours ago and his side was sore, from the iron bar that had been inserted and then withdrawn in the wee hours of the night before.

Now his mind floated in a state of twilight-consciousness, not fully awake but not asleep, either. He thought of his family, of his father, and the way they had looked at him in his SS uniform. He thought of the Fatherland and his love for his home country� and of the creeping doubts that had finally taken root after meeting Lazarus Gray. Anti-Semitism had never appealed to him but it had increasingly become core to the Nazi belief system. When given the chance between honoring his vow to the F�hrer and following his conscience, Sporrenberg had opted for the latter. He had managed to sneak his family out from Germany with the help of his new friends but the guilt remained, burning stronger than ever.

You�re a liar and a coward, the voice in his head often shouted. Fleeing from your Fatherland because you weren�t strong enough!

�Shut up,� Jakob murmured.

Just die. That�s the best thing for you. Just die and stop making things difficult for those around you.

A new voice spoke up then, piercing the veil of blackness that surrounded Jakob�s mind. It sounded confident and strong � and familiar. �You need to begin anew, Jakob. That�s the problem. You cast off your old life but you didn�t sever the bonds that tied you to it. You�re meant for greater things, even greater than Assistance Unlimited. But you�ll never accomplish them until you pass through the gate of death and emerge on the other side.�

�Who are you?� Jakob asked aloud, his cracked lips splitting as he spoke. Tiny rivulets of blood dripped down his chin.

A skull-like visage appeared suddenly, different from The Darkling�s. This was a face that Jakob recognized, deep in his core. This was his true face, the one hidden from everyone else in the world, seen only by its owner as he passed from one world to the next.

�I am Eidolon,� the face said. �I am Jakob Sporrenberg.�

Lazarus tapped his chin, studying the body parts laid out on the table. With the torso, the legs and the head of the devil, Assistance Unlimited had the majority of the foul beast in its possession. Lazarus knew that the government would want him to notify them immediately so that they could decide what to do with the parts� but Lazarus wasn�t sure that he wanted to do that. As he�d suggested to The Darkling, he had ideas of destroying the pieces so that no one could ever bring them back together.

�Chief, we�ve got a signal.�

Lazarus turned away from the table and its gory contents. He looked at Morgan and asked, �Where?�

Morgan shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his trousers and tried to look calm. Lazarus knew him too well, though, and could sense the tension in his old friend. �San Francisco.�

�What aren�t you telling me?�

Morgan exhaled. He had obviously drawn the short straw when it came to breaking this particular news. �It looks like Jakob�s being held at 1930 Street & Smith Avenue.�

The expression that passed over Lazarus� features was gone in a split second but Morgan caught it nonetheless. �That�s� interesting.�

�I�ll say. That�s the house you grew up in, right?�

�Richard Winthrop was born and raised there,� Lazarus replied. Winthrop was his old identity, the man who had died in the choppy waters off the Sovereign City coast. It had been Lazarus Gray who had woken up on the beach, possessing only scattered memories from his former life and none of the emotions that went with him. He could now picture Winthrop�s mother and father but the attachments that went with those memories were lost, perhaps forever.

�Want me to get the group together?� Morgan asked.

�Yes. Tell everyone to meet at the car. We�ll head straight to the airfield.� Lazarus turned back to the devil�s skull, hearing its awful whispering. �I�ll be along in a few minutes.�

Morgan hesitated when he saw Lazarus picking up the body parts. �What are you going to do with those?�

�Throw them in the furnace.�

�Think that will actually destroy them?�

�We�ll see.� Lazarus left the room, well aware of the demonic forces that swirled around him. Twice he found himself stumbling on the stairs, as if unseen hands were trying to trip him up. He made it to the building�s furnace room without harm, however, and set the vile objects down on a table while he opened the doors on the fiery device.

Don�t, the skull seemed to say. Think of the things we could accomplish together. I can show you where your enemies are� warn you of dangers that are still to come. I can help you avoid that destiny that you fear.

Lazarus ignored the spirit�s words, knowing that there would be prices to be paid for such �help.� Lazarus plucked up the skull first, tossing it into the flickering fire. The torso and legs followed immediately after and he shut the grate as a terrible stench billowed forth from the fire.

He doubted that this would actually destroy the things. They were old and forged of something more powerful than mere flame, after all. But it was all part of the process that he had to undertake.

Besides, he had plans within plans� and for some of them, the continued existence of the devil�s bones might actually play a key role�.

�He�s been dead for nearly four minutes,� Earl warned, anxiety in his voice.

The Darkling stood in full regalia above the prone form of Jakob Sporrenberg, a hypodermic full of adrenaline held in one hand. The vigilante�s skull mask hid his features but Earl had known his employer long enough to sense his tension. �It�s not time. Not yet.�

�How do you know?�

�I long ago learned not to trust my physical senses. Our intuition is far greater than we give it credit for. And mine is telling me to wait� but not for much longer.�

Earl stared at the naked German, taking in all the bruises and wounds that had been inflicted. He remembered his own fall from grace, his own forced journey into self-awareness. He�d been so angry and so frightened but at the end, he�d screamed for death to come and take him.

Only when the final moment came, he�d turned and clung to life with a ferocious tenacity. He�d opened his eyes to a whole new way of being: like a phoenix rising from the ashes, he�d found new life.

�Lazarus Gray is just like us,� The Darkling whispered, startling Earl.

�I don�t know what you mean.�

�He was born as Richard Winthrop, right in this very house. But eventually he was brought to death�s door, carried there by the weight of his sins. But he refused to give up. He looked into the mirror and saw his true face� and he returned to the world of the living, as a new being.�

Earl said nothing, digesting this information. For the past few years, The Darkling had seemed superhuman, capable of handling any threat. He had laid waste to all his foes� but now that they�d crossed paths with Assistance Unlimited, it was clear that Earl�s employer had met his match. The Darkling seemed both pleased and terrified by this notion.

�Now,� The Darkling said, and he drove the needle deep into Jakob�s heart.

Then both men stepped back as Jakob Sporrenberg sprang up, eyes wide. The German gasped like a newborn, a long moan rising up that rattled his chest.

Jakob rolled off the table, falling to one knee. Earl realized that the German was whispering, talking to himself in German: �Ich bin tot. Ich bin lebendig. Eidolon.�

The Darkling stepped forward, touching Jakob on the shoulder. �Shh,� he said. �Don�t be afraid. You�ve survived the worst of it.�

Jakob looked up at him and there was something different in his eyes: some sort of hardness, a cold steel that had not been there before. �I died.�

�Yes.�

�Jakob Sporrenberg died.�

�Yes.�

Jakob straightened up, looking around himself as if seeing the world for the first time. �You have something for me,� he said with a definitive air. �Don�t you?�

The Darkling held out a hand towards Earl, who was now holding a set of clothes, complete with mask and hood. �Does it look familiar?�

Jakob took the mask, holding it before him. It was a skull, but of a different design than The Darkling�s. �It�s my face. My true face.�

�And your name?�

Jakob looked at The Darkling and smiled. �I am Eidolon.�

�Eidolon. I like it.� The Darkling squeezed Eidolon�s shoulder. �You need to get dressed. It won�t be too long before Assistance Unlimited tracks us down. I�m surprised it�s taken this long. When you meet them, it�s important that you�re in your new identity.�

�I understand.�

�And you�re with me?� The Darkling pressed. �Even if it means fighting your friends?�

�Yes. If need be� I�ll kill them.�

In a small room located on the top floor of Assistance Unlimited�s headquarters, a woman named Femi paced slowly back and forth. Her room had no windows and the only door was barred from the outside, reinforced with all the magic spells that Abby could bring to bear.

The woman�s name was Femi and she was a princess of ancient Egypt. Cursed to a state of Undeath by the priests of her time, Femi had been restored to full life twice in recent times, only to face defeat at the hands of Lazarus Gray. After her most recent loss, she had been imprisoned in this lonely room, her beauty hidden from the world. With her lustrous black hair, dark eyes and shapely figure, she looked like the popular image of Cleopatra.

Femi stopped in the middle of the room, closing her eyes tightly. Her unique form of �life� left her ravenous and she enjoyed feasting on the flesh of the living. Her shambling followers, resurrected as mummified zombies, were much the same, though she had none at her disposal at present.

Somewhere, at the edges of her consciousness, a voice was calling. It whispered for help, pleading for her to come and free it from the flames that engulfed it. It was the voice of a devil, a powerful demonic force that Femi knew could help her.

Femi walked slowly to the door, placing a hand against its surface. She could feel the magicks that bound her to the room and knew that without feeding, she lacked the power to destroy them � but if the demonic intellect in the furnace could lend her what remained of its own ability, then perhaps she could overwhelm the barrier.

A rush of power came through her frame. It was only a trickle but it stirred her own magical skill, stimulating what had lain dormant since her alliance with Murder, Unlimited.

Femi gritted her teeth, her full lips peeling back into a snarl. A shockwave of power radiated off of her, slamming into the door so hard that it buckled under the impact. A second and third wave came from the Egyptian princess and the spells holding the door began to splinter. One final expenditure of power left Femi weak on her knees but it was enough � and the door flew off its hinges, bouncing off the wall across from her room.

After struggling back to her feet, Femi laughed. She was free.

This time, she swore, her enemies would all suffer painfully.

Karl Raeder, The Silver Wolf, stood outside 6196 Robeson Avenue. He had picked out four different cameras hidden around the block, all recording his every move. He had expected as much but the fact that no one had come out to greet him yet made him believe that the building was, for the moment, empty.

A quick glance up at the nighttime sky brought a smile to Raeder�s lips. A part of him hated the change and all that it brought with it� but there was a growing segment of his soul that craved it.

Karl strode towards the door, discarding his coat as he walked. Next came the tie and then his shirt. By the time he�d reached the front doors, he was kicking off his shoes and socks. He kept going until he was dressed in nothing more than briefs.

A low, guttural growl escaped his throat as the cameras captured what happened next: the painful elongation of his nose and mouth, the sprouting of hair, the twisting of bones and sinew� within moments, the human form of Karl Raeder was gone, leaving behind a scientifically-created werewolf.

Much like his supernatural relatives, The Silver Wolf was fearsome to behold. When standing upright, he was taller than most men and twice as broad. As saliva dripped from his muzzle, Raeder raised a clawed hand and slammed it against the front door. Made of strong metal, it rocked but refused to give, even as he rained down more blows upon it.

With annoyance, The Silver Wolf backed away, studying the building. There were many windows that might prove easier to shatter but it was just as likely that Lazarus Gray would have left traps within.

Before The Silver Wolf could decide upon his next course of action, the front door opened. A beautiful woman dressed in Egyptian finery stood there, watching him with a bemused expression.

�Let me in,� The Silver Wolf growled, unconsciously echoing the wolf from The Three Little Pigs.

�I am Princess Femi,� the woman replied haughtily. �And you may enter with my blessing� providing you agree to serve me.�

�I serve only the F�hrer.�

Femi stared hard at The Silver Wolf, her eyes boring into his. �He is but a man. I am more than he can ever hope to be. I have survived death.�

The Silver Wolf�s ears flattened and he emitted a whine. He believed the woman�s outlandish statement � he could sense her power � but to disobey the oath that he valued above all else? �I am sorry,� he whispered between clenched teeth. �I am a man of honor.�

�Then the problem is that you�re too much of a man.� Femi placed a hand between his eyes and, before he could draw away, she pumped a burst of energy directly into his brain. He howled like a wounded animal, his eyes closing tightly. When they reopened, gone was the intelligence of man� left in its place was only the snarling fury of the beast.

Femi smiled, scratching The Silver Wolf�s head. �Good boy.� She turned, the beast following at her heels.

The legs and skull of the devil were engulfed by flame but Femi was pleased to see that they were unharmed. She fished them out with a metal hook and dropped them onto a nearby table.

The Silver Wolf sniffed around the room, occasionally barking loudly. He could smell Lazarus Gray and still recognized him in his bestial state as an enemy.

Reunite the missing pieces of my body and I will grant you supreme power. Whatever you wish for, shall be yours! The skull whispered, its words echoing in Femi�s mind.

Femi plucked up the skull, ignoring the fact that it burned her fingertips. �Let us understand one thing, devil: I have served my last master in this world. No longer will I be a partner or a servant! I am a queen! All will bow down before me!�

There was a pause and then the skull replied, As you wish, my Queen.

Satisfied, Femi threw the still smoking body parts into a thick sack and slung it over her shoulder. She ascended the stairs, The Silver Wolf trailing behind. Anger blazed through her chest and she thought about burning down the building, robbing Lazarus Gray of his home. Such an act might alert them to her newfound freedom, however, so she elected to hold on to her hate for a later date.

She strode out the front door, leaving it standing wide open. Raeder�s car was parked around the block but once she�d located it, she realized that the automated chariot was beyond her comprehension � and The Silver Wolf�s current state left him incapable of such complex operation.

Femi sighed, frustrated by the nature of the modern world. In her own time, she was beloved and feared in equal parts � and had the priests of the old gods not struck at her like cowards, she would have eventually ruled all of Egypt. But now she was trapped here� and even with all her power, she was incapable of so many things. For all her bravado, she realized that she did need others to help her.

Somewhere out there were members of The Undying, the cultists who had first revived her. But how to contact them? In this day and age, she was uncertain.

When in doubt, she reasoned, fall back upon the old ways.

Femi closed her eyes and slowed her breathing, allowing her mind to slip free of the confines of the flesh. Her consciousness focused on The Undying, trying to sense them through their devotion to her.

When she at last felt the presence of one of their members, she was pleased to realize that they were not far. Apparently, they had stayed close to Sovereign City, knowing of her frequent clashes with the city�s protectors.

�Come to me,� she commanded, knowing that the message would be received by more than one of the group. They, in turn, would spread the word to others: Femi walked the world of man once more� and she needed them.

Three hours later, Femi was soaking in a bath, enjoying the fawning of her followers. There were only four members of The Undying in Sovereign, far fewer than she would have liked. Two of them volunteered to lay down their lives on her behalf and she�d transformed them into the shambling undead, their dried up bodies clothed in surgical bandages. It was the closest thing Femi could find to the sort of cloth once used to make mummies in her time. The effect was the same and that was all that mattered.

The two remaining Undying were useful in different ways � one of them was a pudgy man with a bald head. He was wealthy and it was his home that they were currently occupying. At present, the man was kneeling next to her bath, occasionally handing her a glass of wine.

The other man was named Isaam and he was a handsome man with a thick beard and broad shoulders. Femi planned to bed him as soon as she was out of the bath, sating one of her hungers. The one for human flesh would need to be fulfilled soon but she could restrain it for now.

The door to the bathroom opened and Isaam stepped in. He openly gazed at Femi�s body in the tub, eliciting a smile from her. �I have looked into the matter,� he said, inclining his head. �Lazarus Gray and his friends left via private plane. Their logged flight plan indicated that they were headed to San Francisco.�

�Is that far from here?�

�It is the other side of the country.�

Femi tried to recall the size of the United States, having seen it depicted on maps. Having never had to worry about such things in her past, she simply shrugged her shoulders and moved on to other topics. �What about the devil�s parts?�

�My sources are not very clear on that,� Isaam admitted. �They say that there are stories of multiple parties searching for them: the Nazis, the American government, Assistance Unlimited and a vigilante known as The Darkling.�

�I don�t care who might be searching for them � I want to know who has them!�

Cowed by the anger in her voice, Isaam bowed his head. �Though I cannot say the information is 100�% accurate, I have been told that the American government believes that The Darkling has the heart and both hands.�

Femi stood up, the water dripping off her perfect breasts and down her long legs. �You will have sex with me now, Isaam. Then I must feed� and after that, we will find this Darkling. He will either submit to my authority and give the pieces to me � or he will die and become one of my slaves!�

�Are you okay?� Samantha asked, staring intently at the face of her friend and employer. The Assistance Unlimited team was gathered outside the front door of Gray�s childhood home, waiting for the signal to break into the home.

�I�m fine,� was the terse reply. Then, lowering his voice, he added, �Like I�ve told you in the past, the worst part isn�t seeing things like this � it�s not feeling it. I know I grew up here, I remember last seeing my parents alive here� but it�s like it happened to someone else or like I watched it in a movie.�

Samantha started to reach out to him but he was already on the move. �Remember, everyone,� he said, �Jakob is inside there. Watch your shots � we don�t want to accidentally wound him.�

�I�ve got a few anti-illusion spells readied,� Abby said. �I�ll spring them as soon as we�re inside since they only last for so long.�

The team aligned in a set formation as Eun sprang forward, propelling himself through the air. His kick was enough to shatter the door right off its hinges, opening up the house to their invasion.

Lazarus took the point, leading the charge inside, with Eun and Morgan just behind on either side of him. The girls brought up the rear, with Abby already whispering her magic words. All of them, including Abby, were armed with .45 automatics.

Distant memories welled up within Lazarus, reminding him of long-lost moments with his parents. He recognized the living room quite well, remembering how his father would sit on the couch in the evenings, reading the paper and smoking his pipe. His mother would be nearby, knitting or reading herself. Lazarus � back in his Richard identity � would be on the floor, sprawled out with paper and crayons.

Everything was covered with a fine layer of dust now and Lazarus felt a pang of guilt: he�d let the place fall into ruin. Technically, the property still belonged to him, though he hadn�t thought of it until now.

Even if he wasn�t going to use the house, he should have sold it, so that a new family could have built their own memories in this place.

He barely had time to process those thoughts before a voice interrupted his musing. �Stop right there�.�

All eyes whipped towards the stairs leading to the second floor. The man standing there wore a bodysuit and mask that evoked The Darkling. His build was different and � most disturbingly of all � his voice was all too familiar.

�Jakob?� Samantha asked, momentarily forgetting herself. She started to step towards her friend and winced as Eun grabbed her wrist to stop her.

�Jakob Sporrenberg is dead,� came the reply. �All that is left is Eidolon.�

Lazarus noted that Eidolon held a pistol in each hand and that they were pointed directly at him. �Jakob, whatever he�s done to you, you�re stronger than this. Put away your guns.�

�No.�

Morgan caught Eun�s eye and something silent passed between them. They�d both seen enough violence to sense what was coming. It would be violent and awful, made all the more so because of who they were facing.

Eidolon suddenly shifted his aim and pulled the triggers, fire spitting from the muzzle of both guns. The bullets ripped through the air and slammed hard into Abby�s body, sending her flying back with a loud grunt of pain. Blood sprayed from wounds in her torso and she hit the ground with a thud, her eyes staring at the ceiling.

The rest of Assistance Unlimited responded in kind � despite the fact that the man in the mask was the same one they had come here to rescue, this was now a fight for their lives. Each of them dove for cover, delivering return fire.

Eidolon dropped and rolled down the stairs, his padded bodysuit protecting him from the impact. Bullets were tearing through the plaster behind but so far he�d only felt one hit his body: a bullet was lodged painfully just below his right arm.

Lazarus, hidden behind the couch, winced as Eidolon�s bullets pierced the fabric and narrowly missed him. He sprang up to return fire, just in time to see that Eidolon was throwing some sort of grenade into the room. Lazarus shot it in mid-air, wanting to destroy it before it could hit the ground. The grenade exploded, releasing a puff of smoke that spread quickly through the room.

Cursing, Lazarus realized that Jakob had unleashed some sort of gas. Quickly holding his breath, Lazarus saw that Eun was jumping towards his former teammate, anger evident on his face. Eidolon dodged a punch from Eun and slammed the butt of his pistol into the young man�s mouth, cracking a tooth.

Samantha and Morgan were both coughing, leaving Lazarus to realize that he had to act quickly. Still holding his breath, he sprang over the couch and sprinted towards Jakob.

Eidolon holstered both guns and met Lazarus with a punch that Assistance Unlimited�s leader blocked with an arm. Lazarus followed up with a backhanded blow that went over Eidolon�s head as Jakob ducked.

The two men then traded blows, with Lazarus scoring a hit along Eidolon�s head and Jakob catching Lazarus in the chin. The punch was enough to drive Lazarus into inhaling and immediately his lungs began to burn. A quick glance around him showed that the rest of Assistance Unlimited was out cold, leaving it to him alone to save the day.

�Take a dive, Lazarus,� Eidolon hissed. Evidently the mask he was wearing functioned as some sort of air filter, Lazarus realized. �You can�t win this. In fact, you shouldn�t want to. I�ve seen the truth� and so did you. You died and came back. Stop fighting it and accept what we both know: that the world is going to Hell and it takes something more than hiring yourself out as a private eye to change that.�

Lazarus felt the world growing unsteady around him but he refused to submit. �I�m trying to help people, Jakob. I helped you� no matter what lies he�s told you, you should remember that.� To punctuate his words, Lazarus slammed a right hand against Eidolon�s chest, rocking the German to his core.

Eidolon responded by clasping both hands together and raising them over his head. He brought them down atop his former friend�s skull and then raised a foot to kick Lazarus as he was reeling.

Dulled by the gas in the air, Lazarus nearly went to the ground. But something caught him at the last moment: a desperate burst of energy that signaled just how strong his self-control truly was.

Lazarus roared like a lion, reaching up to claw at Eidolon�s face. He yanked away the mask, revealing the small breathing apparatus beneath. Jakob�s eyes registered his surprise.

�Look at me,� Lazarus wheezed, staggering as the gas began to overwhelm him. �I�m your friend. Don�t fight us.�

Eidolon relaxed, shaking his head with obvious sadness. �It doesn�t matter. I�m just a distraction for you. The Darkling left for Sovereign a while ago. He�s going to take the devil�s bones.�

Lazarus slipped to the floor, an enigmatic smile on his face. �That�s� the worst mistake� he could possibly make.�

Eidolon plucked up his mask and put it back into place. He wondered at what Lazarus had meant by that � the man wasn�t prone to exaggeration, which meant that The Darkling might be walking into a trap.

All the members of Assistance Unlimited were here but that didn�t mean that they didn�t have other allies who might be waiting back at Robeson Avenue: the Dark Gentleman, The Peregrine, Doc Daye or even Fortune McCall were all possibilities.

Still, The Darkling could take care of himself. Eidolon maintained some mixed feelings about the man � he had, after all, kidnapped Jakob and tortured him. But The Darkling had also brought about a tremendous change� one that Eidolon thought was for the better. As such, he was somewhat bound to the other man and would help him as needed � for now.

Eidolon silently said goodbye to each of his former friends before stepping outside. He then walked around to the side of the house, where a large amount of dynamite had been stuffed under the front steps. He knelt beside the explosives and lit the fuse.

After that, he began moving away at a brisk pace. Within three minutes, the entire house was going to be blown sky high� and Assistance Unlimited was going to be no more.

The first to stir was Samantha. The pretty blonde sat up with a groan, holding her head as she did so. She blinked in confusion, realizing that all of her friends were still on the ground. Then she caught sight of Abby, with the spreading pool of blood beneath her. Scrambling over, she grabbed her friend�s hand and gave it a squeeze.

�You hanging in there?� she asked.

Abby rolled her head towards her and managed a smile. �Gas didn�t knock me out. Don�t know why.�

�You�re probably too hardheaded,� Samantha joked. She quickly checked Abby�s wounds and added, �You�ve lost a good bit of blood but I don�t think the bullets hit anything vital. Let me wake up the others and we can get you to a hospital.�

�Don�t have time,� Abby hissed. �Help me up.�

�What are you talking about?� Samantha hooked Abby�s arm over her shoulder and pulled her upright.

�Jakob left but I heard him moving around outside. He did something� we need to find out what.� Abby gestured towards the door.

The two women made their way onto the front steps but Samantha heard the hissing of the burning fuse before laying eyes upon it. She pushed Abby against the house, apologizing for the roughness of her action.

She spotted the fuse after a second of searching � it was no more than a few inches away from ending all their lives. She quickly tore part of her blouse and wrapped it around her hand. Then she grabbed hold of the fuse and patted it until the fire was out.

�My god,� she whispered, looking back at Abby. �He tried to kill us.�

�We�ve got to stop thinking of him as Jakob. He told Lazarus that he�d died and been reborn� if that�s true, it can change a person.�

Samantha stood up, shaking her head. �He�s confused, that�s all. He�s still Jakob.�

�I�m not sure I�d agree with that,� Lazarus said. He was standing unsteadily in the doorway of the house. His eyes were fixed on two police vehicles that were speeding to the scene, drawn by reports of gunfire. �He wants us to call him Eidolon. For now, that�s what we�ll do.�

�You can�t mean you�re giving up on him?� Samantha asked in shock.

�We�ll try to bring him back to the fold,� Lazarus replied but the tone of voice that he used was clear enough: Lazarus thought it very likely that Jakob Sporrenberg was lost to them forever.

The Darkling found the front door of 6196 Robeson Avenue standing open. That would have been odd enough but as he moved through the quiet rooms of Lazarus Gray�s home, he also noted that there was a large amount of canine fur on the floor, along with holes that had been ripped into the fine carpet.

He was well aware of the cameras that blanketed the facility and it took only a little bit of searching to find where the monitors were stored. He played back a good bit of the recorded footage and was surprised to see not only a beautiful woman dressed in Egyptian finery but what appeared to be a living, breathing werewolf.

Worst of all, it appeared that the woman had absconded with the remains of the devil.

Uncharacteristically, The Darkling slammed a fist onto the monitor�s table. Though a part of him enjoyed the challenge presented by Lazarus Gray, he was growing weary of constantly being opposed.

Just before he turned away from the monitor, he caught sight of something that gave him pause. One of the monitors was still showing live footage of the front door � and The Darkling felt a smile spread across his face. The woman � along with her werewolf and what could only be described as Hollywood-style reanimated mummies � had returned.

And in a pack slung over the back of the werewolf was what appeared to be one of the legs of the demon.

Another set of eyes was gazing upon Femi and her strange band: eyes belonging to Kelly Emerson. Locally, she was often referred to as merely �the museum curator�s daughter,� but she was in fact much more. A graduate of Sovereign University, Kelly held doctorates in archeology and anthropology. Standing nearly six feet tall and possessed of flowing red hair, she looked like a modern Amazon, with enough curves to unsettle even the most ardent of playboys. Her glittering green eyes and full lips had warmed Gray�s heart when he�d first met her and their love affair was still recent enough that both of them found it slightly uncomfortable to be in the same room. It hadn�t lasted very long and was, in fact, best described as a fling� but the passion had burned so brightly that it had threatened to consume the both of them.

Kelly had been asked by Lazarus to watch the building � and to take no action at all until the arrival of The Darkling. She had followed these directions exactly, though it meant doing nothing as The Silver Wolf had arrived and then departed with Femi in tow. It had meant waiting with increasing nervousness for the hours following, until The Darkling had finally appeared, just an hour or two before dawn.

Perched on the rooftop of what had once been Gibson�s Pharmacy, Kelly lifted a pair of binoculars and peered down below. Femi was back, with a ghastly entourage in tow.

Hurriedly, Kelly reached up to tap the communications device that was nestled in her ear. She had sent two other reports in the past few hours but had received no response from Lazarus. Depending on weather conditions, such things were not uncommon � and given the way danger seemed to follow Lazarus, it was equally likely that he was too busy to hear the messages. Still, they would be saved to his device until he cleared them. �Lazarus, please respond when you can. The situation is getting worse by the minute! Femi�s back � with that wolf-man and now some of her mummies, too. I don�t know if they�re working with The Darkling or not but I�m starting to get really frightened.�

Kelly closed the connection and sighed. As a woman in a male-dominated field, she hated to admit weakness� but when confronted with the undead, she thought it was perfectly acceptable to be a bit weak in the knees.

After checking to make sure that her .45 was fully loaded, Kelly leaned back over the edge of the rooftop, ready to see what happened next.

The Darkling knew they were waiting for him but he stepped into the foyer fearlessly, an automatic held in each hand. His arms were held away from his body, in clear view of Femi and her companions.

The Egyptian woman faced him with a smile on her face. The werewolf loomed right behind her while the two mummies swayed aimlessly several feet away. �I used magic to find you,� she said, raising her voice imperiously. �If I had known of your plans, I would have waited for you here.� She bowed her head slightly. �I am Femi, the Undying.�

The Darkling raised his guns. �I�d like to test that.�

Femi laughed, unconcerned about the weapons pointed in her direction. She placed a hand on The Silver Wolf�s shoulder, holding him at bay. The werewolf had begun to growl at the sight of The Darkling, saliva dripping in long ropes from his maw. �Resist and I make you suffer. If you are lucky, I will only kill you. That would be better than becoming like them,� she said, gesturing toward her mummies. �They are just conscious enough to remember all that they have lost.�

�What do you want?� The Darkling asked, his voice resembling a snarl.

�The same as you, which is why I propose an alliance. I possess three of the devil�s body parts� and you have the other three. Let us unite them and share in the power together!�

The Darkling studied her face for a moment. �What would you do with such power?�

�I would rule,� Femi answered instantly. �I would outlaw worship of all the gods and replace their false idols with ones that recognized me. I would live forever, my beauty untainted by age. And I would make my enemies tremble with fear!� Femi�s eyes were alight with desire. �And you, my Darkling? What would you ask of the devil?�

�I would ask him nothing save this: to help me destroy the men who threaten this world. I have seen enough of the future to know that we are standing on a pile of kindling and men like Hitler are holding the matches. If he gave me the power, I would wipe out some two hundred people � men and women that I have listed in a notebook as being the worst of humanity. I would let them burn.�

Femi�s eyes narrowed. �You would remove your rivals so that your power would be secure?�

�No. I�d remove them so that maybe someday people like Lazarus Gray and myself wouldn�t be needed.�

�You are weak,� Femi sneered. �Like most of the men in this era. Too much of a coward to take what you really want!�

�I know that the power of the devil is dangerous to wield,� The Darkling replied. �In fact, I think that it�s very likely that any human who attempted it would eventually burn up in the process. But I�m willing to take that chance.�

�As am I.� Femi let her shoulders drop with resignation. Though she adored death and bloodshed, she had enjoyed hearing Isaam�s stories about The Darkling and. She had hoped that the man might have lived up to those tales. �Kill him,� she said, disappointment lacing her words. �Quickly.�

The Silver Wolf bolted forward on all fours, roaring as he moved towards The Darkling. The image would have been beyond terrifying for most men: the massive man-beast with murderous eyes and snapping teeth. But The Darkling held his ground, tracking his shot so that when he pulled the trigger, the two guns spat deadly flames of pain and suffering.

The bullets tore through flesh and fur but they seemed to only enrage the werewolf. The Darkling jumped aside, narrowly avoiding a swipe of the Silver Wolf�s claws. As the creature whirled to attack again, The Darkling fired the rest of his clips. All of the bullets truck home and blood ran in fast-moving rivulets down the monster�s body.

Maddened by pain but unable to quit the battle � his loyalty to Femi would not allow it � the Silver Wolf slammed his body against The Darkling, lifting the vigilante off the ground and driving him hard against the side of the building.

Pinned there, The Darkling was unable to avoid the teeth and claws that now ravaged his body. His skin was shredded as easily as his clothing but The Darkling refused to surrender. He focused past the pain, distancing himself from it. He was no longer trapped within his body but was rather a simple passenger, carried along by it. His mind was free of suffering� and with that clarity came a plan.

Moving with the kind of relaxed grace that one wouldn�t associate with a man being mauled to death, The Darkling reached down to an inside pocket and pulled out two clips of ammunition. They were slick in his gloved hands, dripping with blood, but The Darkling was able to reload before the Silver Wolf began to go after his throat.

Calmly, The Darkling placed both barrels against the sides of the monster�s head. He pulled the triggers, twice for each pistol, and the bullets tore deep into the Silver Wolf�s brain.

The monster staggered back, gazing at The Darkling with a strange expression in his eyes. As his body shifted from animal back to man, the Silver Wolf seemed oddly grateful for the unexpected gift of death.

The Darkling looked up, his body horrifically savaged and with smoke curling from each pistol. The mummies were now descending upon him, their arms outstretched.

Dropping the guns to the ground, The Darkling drew out two knives, their blades gleaming in the light of the street lamps. He engaged the mummies, using their slow gait against them. His arms were a blur, the knives slamming hard against the toughened flesh of the undead monsters. Though the mummies felt no pain, they were nonetheless driven back by the sheer force of his attacks. The Darkling was using the knives like hammers, slamming down repeatedly until at last, the sinew began to give way and the mummies lost first an arm, then part of one�s head, then a hand.

The Darkling finally gave a grunt of exertion and whipped both blades out from his body, decapitating the mummies. As they fell to the ground, their cloth-wrapped bodies still twitching, The Darkling finally allowed himself a moment of agony. He leaned over, letting the blood drip from his terrible wounds.

Knowing that the battle was not yet over, The Darkling straightened, once more shutting himself off from the pain. He found that Femi was watching him with an almost sexual leer, her pink tongue darting out like a snake�s to dance across her lips. With a shocked realization, The Darkling came to the conclusion that it was the sight of his blood that was setting the woman�s libido aflame.

�You are amazing,� she said. �What is it with this era when the men who are most my equal are also my enemies? Both you and Lazarus Gray would be fitting consorts but neither is able to truly seize power.�

�You say you are undying?� The Darkling asked. �If so, that�s probably why your corruption runs so deep. Men like Lazarus and myself have seen behind the veil of death. Our mortality is thus reinforced � we know how precious and precarious life is, and thus we fight all the harder to protect it. But someone who has no knowledge of death as his or her constant companion can never embrace mortal existence to the fullest. You�re thus emptier than you should be � and your rage at this takes its current form.�

Femi was visibly incensed by The Darkling�s words. �And what form is that?�

The Darkling dropped to a crouch, tossing aside his knives and picking his guns back up. �You�re a bitch, obviously.�

Femi screamed as The Darkling began firing, his bullets slamming into her delicate flesh. She opened her mouth wider and a plume of flame shot forth.

The Darkling threw himself to the side, narrowly avoiding a sure death. He sprang up but slipped in his own blood, causing his next shot to go wide.

Femi was upon him, then, attacking with a ferocity that rivaled The Silver Wolf�s. She punched, scratched and bit, all the while augmenting her blows with mystic force. The Darkling felt three ribs crack under the assault, then a tooth went flying from his mouth.

Femi shoved him to the ground and for the first time in years, The Darkling saw absolute defeat looming in his near future. The crouching woman was now glowing with power and The Darkling could sense that she was building to one final blow, one that would eradicate him from this world.

The Darkling drew back his left hand and formed his fingers into a fist. He sat up, channeling all that was left of his will into that one punch. He knew that it was very likely that he�d pass out afterward but he had to get in one last blow � one last attempt to defeat his foe.

Femi gasped aloud as the punch slammed into her chest. The force was so great that her heart stopped beating for a moment.

Even though she had been restored by mystical means, she still breathed and her blood still flowed through her veins. The sudden stopping of her heart caused her to lose control of the energy that had been building up within her. It swirled wildly and The Darkling was forced to avert his gaze, for fear that it would blind him.

Femi�s heart began to beat once more but the damage had been done: the mystic powers she�d unleashed were too great for her to regain control of� she crawled off of the Darkling and screamed. Her body exploded in a cacophony of light and sound, leaving a cloud of sand to fall around The Darkling�s bleeding form.

For a long moment, The Darkling didn�t move. He nearly blacked out twice but eventually he felt strong hands lifting him from the ground. It was Earl, his face drawn tight with concern.

�Sir, are you okay?� Earl asked.

�I�ll live. Is the zeppelin anchored nearby?�

�It is. I activated the fog device to hide it from the authorities.�

�Good. We need to grab the devil�s body parts and get out of here.�

Earl nodded, supporting his employer as they moved towards the bag containing the devil�s skull and limbs. The cursed objects had survived Femi�s explosion and appeared unharmed, despite the incredible force exerted upon them.

�We�ve won,� The Darkling whispered, darkness creeping over him. �We�ve won.

Twelve hours passed before The Darkling next opened his eyes. His body was swathed in bandages, the smell of antiseptic clinging to him. He looked around and recognized that he was in one of his many safe houses, this one located on the outskirts of Sovereign City. He wondered why Earl had chosen this one, given its proximity to Assistance Unlimited and then realized that given his condition, that was precisely why it had been selected: it was the closest and that meant that Earl could stabilize his employer the fastest.

Grimacing slightly at the ache in his bones, The Darkling opened up his walk-in closet and decided to wear his Harold Grant guise today. After selecting a well-tailored suit, The Darkling set about putting on the makeup that transformed his scarred face into that of the well-known gadfly.

He descended the stairs, several questions burning in his brain: Had Eidolon returned? Did he successfully kill Assistance Unlimited? And would the reconstituted demon be able to make good on The Darkling�s desire to rid the world of those two hundred men and women?

Stepping into the study, The Darkling felt a prickle of warning go down his spine. Something was not right� and as he turned the corner, he realized what it was.

Earl lay facedown on the carpeted floor, a large pool of blood beneath his head. The man responsible for the murder sat calmly in a chair nearby, gun still in hand: Eidolon.

�No need to check on him. He�s dead.� Eidolon leaned forward, gesturing with his gun. �Sit down.�

The Darkling hesitated for only a brief second before taking his place in a chair facing Eidolon�s. Normally, he had no doubt that he could take his pupil� but given the current state of his wounds, there was a greater than usual chance that he might fail. �What�s going on here?� he asked, speaking in a tone of voice that indicated that he was still in charge.

�Are you upset about Earl�s death?� Eidolon asked, his curiosity evident.

�Earl was living on borrowed time, as are we all. He knew the risks associated with our work.�

�He was just a tool, in other words.�

�A chess piece, to be more precise � a useful one whose skills will be hard to replace. That�s the most emotion you�ll get from me, I�m afraid.�

�I blew up the Winthrop house. All of Assistance Unlimited was still inside.�

�I�m sure that was difficult for you.�

�Surprisingly� no. I really do feel like a new person now. I contacted Earl not long after and he told me to come here. En route, I had a lot of time to think about what I want to do next. Like you, I want to make the world a better place. But I�m not sure that you�ve got a better vision of how to do that than I do.�

�So that�s what this is about? You murdered Earl because you want to be the one to reassemble the devil�s body?�

�I wanted to see the pieces. Earl refused to tell me where they were. He was very loyal to you.� Eidolon shook his head. �I remember being a soldier. The first kill was very hard but after that, you just did it. You followed orders. I�m not following anyone�s orders now.�

�There�s no reason why we can�t agree on something. The power we�ll wield will be immense.�

�You told me that you believe the power will destroy whoever uses it.�

�I believe so, yes. Most people would be burned up before they finished using it. That�s why someone like me is perfect. I�m able to ignore the pain and separate myself from the physical.�

�And what happens to the devil after that? Is he reborn?�

�I planned to use the last of my will to banish him from this world. Forever.�

�Sounds like a tall order. Why would this devil allow you to do that? And if he is a devil, wouldn�t he try to turn the tables somehow?�

�I plan to revive him inside a pentagram. The devil�s power will be unfettered but he won�t be able to physically leave without help. Before you killed Earl, he was going to be a key part of that: I�d be inside the pentagram with the devil, Earl would be outside of it. I�d say to the demon: uphold your end of the bargain and Earl will free you when it�s done.�

�And would he have done that?�

The Darkling didn�t answer. Instead, he leaned forward with keen interest. �What do you want to do with that power, Jakob?�

Eidolon flinched, knowing that The Darkling was using his old name intentionally. �I believe you�re thinking too small.�

�Meaning?�

�You have a notebook full of names. But killing them only removes those specific threats. I�m thinking about remaking it into the kind of place where people like that are less likely to develop in the first place.�

�Lofty goals. And how would you pull that off?�

�I grew up in a Germany that was suffering under the weight of the Treaty of Versailles. I saw corruption, starvation and despair up close. The rise of Hitler seemed so meteoric because the German people were hungering for hope and he has given that to them. He has given them self-respect.�

�Not to mention rampant racism and his own brand of corruption,� The Darkling pointed out.

�True. But the point I was trying to make is this: we need to not only destroy those who are evil, we need to inspire, as well. I want to use the power of the devil to wipe out world hunger, to produce equity amongst the social classes and to cure disease.�

The Darkling lowered his eyes, his shoulders tensing. �You�re talking about playing god on a level that I�m not comfortable with.�

�You�re fine with playing judge, jury and executioner but when it comes to saving lives, you�re hesitant?�

�I don�t want to remove the element of free will that we have in the world, Jakob. By removing these 200 people, I think the earth will be a safer place. We�ll have time to bring about the change that you want. But if we remake the world and offer everyone all the bounty on a silver platter, they won�t appreciate it.�

Eidolon raised his pistol, pointing it at The Darkling�s head. �Take me to the devil�s body.�

�I don�t know where it is. I was unconscious when Earl brought me here and you just killed him. So we�re both in the same boat.�

�You know this house. You know where he would have hidden them.�

�Have you looked for yourself?�

�Yes.�

The Darkling wondered if he could move fast enough to knock Eidolon�s gun aside before the trigger was pulled. It would be close, perhaps too close for comfort. �Jakob� Eidolon� I showed you your true face because I thought you were meant for great things. But this isn�t the way.�

�Take me to them,� Eidolon repeated. This time he cocked his weapon. �Or I�ll kill you and go back to looking on my own.�

The Darkling stood up, looking completely at ease. He led the way out of the room and then back upstairs. When he reached the guest bedroom, he paused next to an oversized lamp that sat on a corner table. He reached in and twisted the bulb. Almost immediately, a section of wall shifted next to the table, revealing a set of stairs. The air that came from the revealed corridor was fresh and pleasant. �Hidden entrance to the sub-basement,� he explained.

�Wouldn�t it make more sense to have the entrance on the first floor?�

�Then it wouldn�t be nearly as secret, would it? Someone who was observant enough might realize that the interior of the house seemed smaller than it should be� but few people take notice of such things and fewer still would imagine that it was because a portion of the house was hidden behind the walls.� The Darkling hurried down the stairs, well aware that Eidolon was right behind. They had only gotten halfway down when something occurred to the house�s owner: presumably Earl would have entered by this same means earlier, which meant that the air should have been quite stale. The only way it should be so fresh was if someone had come in via the exterior entrance and had left the door open� something that Earl would never have done.

�What�s wrong?� Eidolon asked, having noticed a slight pause in The Darkling�s movement.

�Nothing.� The Darkling picked up his pace, wondering what was awaiting them. Whatever it was, it was something that Eidolon didn�t know about � and that meant it offered an opportunity for The Darkling to turn the tables on the young German.

The two men stepped one after another into the sub-basement, which was lit by three electric lights that hung from the ceiling. All were already on when they entered, which served as further proof that something unusual was going on.

The much sought after body parts lay on a large surgical-style table in the center of the room. They were arranged in their proper places in relation to each other but none were touching, lest the spell be enacted too early.

Despite the power of the bones, it was the men and women who stood beside them that brought both The Darkling and Eidolon up short.

Lazarus Gray stared at them both with cool confidence. He held no weapons in his hand, which was in stark contrast to the rest of Assistance Unlimited, who were all armed with automatics, but somehow he seemed all the more dangerous for it. �It�s time for this to end, gentlemen.�

�I quite agree,� The Darkling replied, his eyes glittering.

Eidolon was the last to speak and when he did so, his shock was evident. �I left you all for dead.�

�Bastard,� Abby whispered, drawing an amused glance from Morgan.

�We�re hard to kill,� Lazarus said. �Now, why don�t we all lower our weapons� and talk this out like grownups?�

Lazarus gestured for his people to relax. He saw Eidolon holster his own weapon when they did so.

�How did you survive the explosion?� Eidolon asked.

�Abby and Samantha saved us. It was very close, actually.�

Eidolon glanced at Abby, noting the daggers she was shooting his way with her eyes. �I know you think I betrayed you but I was only doing what The Darkling asked.�

�Is that all it took? Somebody asking you to kill your friends?�

Eidolon kept his gaze on Abby. Despite the fact that his face was hidden, his body language betrayed his agitation. �You don�t understand. I died and was reborn. I saw the state the world is in and I was given a chance to change it. The Darkling told me that you were standing in the way of that � and he was right. I knew then and now that none of you would be willing to do what needed to be done.�

Abby shook her head. �That�s not good enough, Jakob. If you really believe this thing has the power to change the world, would you really trust The Darkling with it?�

�No. That�s why I decided to use it myself.�

�You�d never be able to master that kind of magic,� Abby said in disbelief. �Only someone like me could handle it.�

�That was a risk I was willing to take.�

It was then Eun�s turn to explode. The young Korean pointed a finger at Eidolon, his handsome face twisting into an expression of pure rage. �I hated you from the first moment I met you! But you convinced me that I was wrong about you � that you could actually be something better than a Nazi! I was wrong: you�re worse.�

�That�s enough,� Lazarus said and Eun fell into a sullen silence. He looked at Eidolon and said, �I know you�ve been through a lot. I can�t imagine what The Darkling has done to you. If possible, I�ll do whatever I can to help you. But in the end, it�s up to you. I can�t help unless you let me.�

Before Eidolon could respond, Lazarus turned back to The Darkling. �Now. About the devil�s bones.�

�How did you find us?� The Darkling asked.

�The same way I tracked Jakob to California: the radioactive isotopes in his blood. We had to augment our searching methods but that�s the gist of it. Once I traced him here, we spent quite some time examining the property.�

�Clever.� The Darkling stepped closer, so that only the table and the items that rested upon it separated him and Lazarus. �I have a list of names, Lazarus. Two hundred of them. They�re men and women who pose an incredible threat to our world. I want to use the power here to kill them. Our world will be safe for a time, a time during which people like you can help make the world a better place. I�m willing to die for this. Let me.�

�You�re gambling your life that you can control this power. Worse yet, you�re gambling the safety of this world. I won�t let you do that.�

�I�m not sure you can stop me.�

�Is that really what you want?�

The Darkling shook his head. �No. It�s not. I want you and Eidolon to help me.� The vigilante reached out and grasped Lazarus by the wrist. �I know you have no reason to trust me, Lazarus. In fact, you have every reason not to. I kidnapped your friend, I�ve turned him against you, and I�ve assaulted you personally. But everything I�ve ever done was for the purpose of helping this world.�

�I believe you. But that doesn�t mean that I think you�re right.�

The Darkling nodded, stepping back. He looked over at Eidolon and lowered his voice. �Who are you siding with?�

Eidolon glanced at the angry faces of his former friends but he felt no emotional connection to them. They were from the past, from his time as Jakob Sporrenburg� they were not friends of Eidolon.

Ultimately, perhaps no one was.

Eidolon moved with incredible speed, drawing his pistol. The action sparked a flurry of movement, as the members of Assistance Unlimited dove for cover and drew their own weapons. Both Lazarus and The Darkling knelt below the table, girding themselves for battle.

The final conflict had begun.

Lazarus flinched as gunfire erupted. In these tight quarters, it would only be a moment of time before someone was killed. That meant he needed to work quickly to end the battle. He spun around the table and reached out to grab The Darkling. His fingers closed around the vigilante�s coat but there was no arm within its sleeve � The Darkling had discarded the garment.

Lazarus spotted The Darkling a few feet away, unlocking a storage cabinet. Within lay a set of .45 automatics and a long overcoat that resembled the one that The Darkling used in his adventuring guise.

Throwing himself forward, Lazarus slammed into The Darkling, just as the vigilante was lifting out a gun. The two men fell onto the bottom of the stairwell, each delivering a series of tight punches that cracked bones and broke skin.

�It doesn�t have to end this way,� The Darkling hissed.

�Then give up!� Lazarus answered. He grunted as The Darkling shoved him back with a foot to his stomach. Lazarus crouched as The Darkling got to his feet, squaring off for another round of blows.

Eidolon was outnumbered. His first shot had caught Morgan in the right shoulder, wounding the older man, but his subsequent shots had not struck home. Unfortunately for him, the same couldn�t be said for his opponents: Abby had struck him with some form of mystic blast that caused numbness down one side of his body and Samantha had winged him with a bullet across his left thigh.

Cursing, Eidolon turned to the stairs. The Darkling and Lazarus Gray were fighting near there but he could squeeze past in an attempt to flee. He was halfway towards doing so when Eun appeared, blocking his path.

Eidolon grunted as Eun slammed an elbow into his mask, followed by a hard kick that knocked the gun from his hand. Eun pressed his advantage, unleashing a spinning backhand that sent Eidolon slamming against the wall.

When Eun threw a roundhouse punch, however, Eidolon was prepared. He caught hold of the younger man�s arm and yanked, using Eun�s momentum against him. Eun cried out as his fist was driven against the brick wall, cracking his knuckles.

Eidolon followed up with a hard punch to the jaw that knocked Eun to the floor.

�I�m sorry, Jakob.�

Eidolon whirled around to see that Samantha was standing behind him. She�d traded in her pistol for a large hammer she�d found in the basement. She swung the heavy weapon with all her might, her tiny feet actually leaving the floor as the hammer whipped through the air. The head of the weapon connected with Eidolon�s jaw, shattering it. Blood and bits of his teeth flew from Eidolon�s mouth as he sagged against the walls. The gore splattered against the inside of his ruined mask.

Now that the bullets were no longer flying, Morgan was able to pull himself up. His shoulder hurt like hell � no matter how many bullets he�d taken, each one felt like the first. He saw Lazarus and The Darkling still fighting, their bodies a blur of motion. It was uncanny watching them � they barely looked human, they moved so fast. If he thought he could have gotten a shot off, Morgan would have tried to take down The Darkling and end this whole crazy mess� but there was no way he could do so without risking his employer�s life.

Morgan suddenly flinched as a bright light filled the room. He squinted, noticing out of the corner of his eye that Lazarus and The Darkling were similarly giving pause.

The devil�s bones were shimmering with an amazing light, one that shifted through all the colors of the spectrum. Morgan saw the head suddenly connect to the torso, followed by the arms and hands, then finally the legs and feet. The heart � the object secured by Lazarus Gray years before � hovered in the air above the reconstituted body. It then plunged downward, passing through the desiccated flesh and bone. Once it was back in the chest, the devil�s eyes glowed brightly and an unholy voice asked, �Who has brought me back from the dead?�

Morgan exhaled, cursing as he did so. �Oh, shit.�

Standing there, bathed in the dark majesty of the devil�s light, was Abigail Cross. �I have. And I command you to give me your full power, to use as I see fit.�

�Abby!� Lazarus shouted, reaching for her. The Darkling did the same and the two men seized hold of each of her arms. She ignored them, staring up at the devil, which floated near the ceiling. The creature�s skin was becoming fuller now, taking on a deep ruddy complexion. A forked tail extended from just above its buttocks and a tiny wisp of beard formed upon its chin.

�And in return, human woman, I wish my freedom.� The devil�s yellow eyes gleamed with dark malice.

Abby smiled. �Agreed.�

A tremendous thunderclap followed, the force of which knocked Eun, Samantha and Morgan to their knees. When it faded, Eun looked up to see that Abby was gone � along with the devil, Lazarus Gray and The Darkling.

To make matters worse, there was a bloody trail leading up the stairs, indicating that a revived Eidolon had made his escape.

�What just happened here?� he asked.

Morgan looked at him. �We just got screwed.�

Being back in Peru was shocking enough, of course, but the circumstances made it worse.

Lazarus Gray looked around him, feeling a mounting sense of dread. The devil had transported them to a hilltop overlooking the Temple of Pain. Down below, a Nazi encampment had been set up around the Temple and the men were currently on a meal break, standing or sitting around a fire. None of them had noticed the arrival of Lazarus and his companions.

�Abby, what have you done?� he asked, looking back at the raven-haired girl.

�Lazarus, when you first met me, what was I doing?�

�You were infiltrating the Jack-In-Irons cult.�

�That�s right.� Abby looked at him with a serious expression in her eyes. �Before I joined Assistance Unlimited, I posed as a black magician so I could use the dark powers against their owners. This is no different.�

�You�ll destroy yourself and unleash the devil in the process.�

�I can handle it. I�m a conduit for mystical forces already � this won�t be much different than what I usually do.�

The Darkling seemed to regard that as hyperbole. �You have no idea what you�re dealing with! Even if you could handle the magic side of it, you�re going to be incapable of concentrating while funneling that much energy through you! You can�t handle so much pain!�

�Don�t tell me what I can handle,� she retorted.

�This is quite entertaining but shall we begin? I grow anxious to be free.� The devil stood before them, darkly regal despite the fact that he was nude.

Abby stepped forward, gazing at the devil with her chin upturned. �What do you want me to do?�

�Merely offer me your hands, my sweet. I will give you my power to do as thou wilt, but for only a moment. Do as much as you can in that time, for I shall not extend it by even a second!�

�We can�t let her do this,� The Darkling whispered to Lazarus. �This moment is too important to risk on a child!�

Lazarus was torn. On the one hand, he trusted Abby, as he did all his aides. On the other, he wasn�t sure that she could survive such a thing� and there was a nagging voice in his head that said The Darkling was right: could anyone really be expected to maintain their sense of right and wrong when possessed of such power?

Abby reached out and in that moment, The Darkling struck. He jumped between the girl and the devil, snatching up the demon�s wrists. �Give me the power! I demand it!�

Abby let out a cry of shock and pressed past him, seizing the devil�s arm. �I brought you back. The power is mine!�

Lazarus looked down below and saw that two of the Nazis were now looking in their direction, having heard the dispute. One of them caught sight of him and began barking orders to the others, who threw down their dinner plates and began snatching up rifles.

The time for wavering was past and Lazarus Gray was finally at the point where he had no choice but to act. He drew his pistol and moved to join the others but this time he put the barrel of his gun directly at the side of the devil�s skull.

The demon looked at him with shock on his face, expressions which were mirrored on the features of The Darkling and Abby. �What are you doing? You can�t kill me with that.�

�I think you�re lying. A man killed you in the Temple of Pain with a knife, didn�t he? And you couldn�t stop him. Because for all your power, you�re susceptible as long as you�re here on the mortal plane.�

The devil sneered, �Perhaps I should offer the power to you�?�

�No, thanks. I don�t have any interest in playing god. Being a man is hard enough.�

Before the devil could reply, Lazarus Gray pulled the trigger. The side of the demon�s head exploded, showering the ground in black, ink-like blood. As the body began to fall, the power contained within the body rushed out in a flood, wrapping around the bodies of both The Darkling and Abby. They were carried up into the sky, borne aloft as if caught in a tornado.

As they vanished from sight, Lazarus thought he heard one of them calling his name but he couldn�t be sure which it was. He had no time to debate whether or not he�d done the right thing, however: the Nazis would be upon him in a second and he couldn�t allow them to gain possession of the devil�s body. If they resurrected him again, then the danger would begin anew.

In the seconds he had left, he yanked out a knife from his belt and knelt beside the devil. He sawed at the thing�s neck, finally feeling it give way. He then yanked it up by the beard and hurled it like a shot putt into the jungle. If things worked out, he could go looking for it later � but for now, he had to keep the full body from the Nazi�s hands.

As the first of the men ascended the hill, rifle in hand, Lazarus opened fire. The bullet caught the man in the throat and sent him tumbling back toward his camp. Lazarus pulled out a small crystalline sphere from his jacket and threw it at the others who were approaching. The sphere hit the ground just in front of the leader, shattering upon impact. The resulting explosion sent glass shards flying and released a modified version of tear gas. While just as painful as its traditional cousin, this gas was harmless to members of Assistance Unlimited, who had all undergone specialized treatments.

Diving straight into the noxious fumes, Lazarus became a blur of motion, dispatching one soldier after another with his knife and gun.

In less than five minutes, the entire camp was dead, leaving only Lazarus to stand before the temple where all of it had begun, so long ago.

Lazarus took a moment to recover and then set off back up the hill. He searched for the skull in the jungle but was unable to find it. Unhappy but still convinced he had done the right thing, he returned to the rest of the corpse and dragged it down to the Temple. He spent the next few hours hacking the thing back into pieces and then burying them at various points around the temple. He then drew lines in the dirt, forming a pentagram shape that connected the body parts together.

Kneeling in the grass and dirt, Lazarus closed his eyes and remembered the words to a binding spell he had learned during his days with The Illuminati. He could almost hear Walther Lunt�s voice, reciting the words in a professorial tone. He bound the spirit of the devil to this temple, locking it in place. It could never be freed unless someone found the scattered pieces and was able to dispel the specific ward that had been erected.

Lazarus looked up at the darkening sky, wondering if he would ever see Abby � or The Darkling � again. And if he did, would they ever be able to forgive him?

Abby grunted as she splashed down into the swamp. The murky water was familiar to her, as she�d grown up in Louisiana and many of her relatives were swamp people. She sat up, spitting out the foul-tasting liquid. Her clothing and hair were soaked but she retained enough peace of mind to remember to cast a spell about herself, warning away the local gators. She had no desire to end up as anything�s dinner.

How long had she been up in the air, powered by the devil�s power? It had felt like forever. She and the Darkling had passed through multiple veils of reality, thrown through not just space but time as well. The things she had seen were like confusing memories but she thought she could sort them out in time.

�I could use a woman like you.�

Abby stood up, glancing over at The Darkling, who was sitting beneath a cypress tree. He looked tired and far older than she�d seen him before. His makeup was in tatters, revealing the scarred face beneath.

�Are you asking me to work for you or out on date?� the flirtatious young woman asked.

The Darkling slowly rose, stretching out the kinks in his back. �Working with me. Though Harold Grant might be intrigued by the second possibility. We could accomplish a lot together, especially once we find Eidolon.�

�What makes you think he�s still alive? Or not in jail by now?�

�I�m confident that he escaped.�

�You brainwashed my friend. Told him to kill us. I�m not going to work for you.�

�Then we should go our separate ways.�

Abby shook her head. �No. I�m taking you down and then I�m dragging your body back to Lazarus. That�s the only way he�s going to forgive me for screwing this up.�

The Darkling held up his gun, cocking it. �I�m sorry to hear that. Because if that�s the case, then only one of us is going to leave here alive.�

Abby�s full lips twisted into a smile. Blue tendrils of smoky energy formed around her fists. �Then what are we waiting for?�

The Darkling leaped towards her, gun firing.

Eidolon stood in the shadows, watching as his former friends and their dates waited on the docks, about to board the Heart of Fortune gambling ship. It was their first chance to unwind since Lazarus had returned from Peru but he could see on their faces that they were worried about their missing friends. Eidolon himself wondered what had become of The Darkling and Abby but perhaps, he mused, he would never know.

He saw Morgan flirting with Molly Sims, the young friend of Samantha�s that he had been dating for nearly a year now. Lazarus was with his friend from the museum, Kelly Emerson. Eun was with his lover, Edward, leaving Samantha as the only single person in the group.

A pang of regret pierced Eidolon�s heart. If he�d been there, he might be holding her hand, trying to woo her. But those days were past.

Jakob Sporrenberg and the pleasures of the flesh were a memory. Now there was only the ghostly shade of Eidolon� and the mission that he�d chosen.

There were so many villains in this world, so many who would torment the innocent unless they were driven down to hell.

Eidolon would be an instrument of justice in this tired, sin-ridden world.

And God help the guilty.

On an island in the South Sea, a large building, hidden from the world, was currently being buffeted by a terrible storm. Rainwater struck the side of the building with great force and tremendous waves slammed against the rocks that lined the island.

Though Mother Nature raged with all her might, within the manmade structure, all was peaceful, the jazzy strains of Duke Ellington�s Creole Rhapsody issuing forth from a radio.

Thunder Jim Wade carefully inserted the pin through an insect�s back, affixing it to the small piece of wood upon which it would be mounted. Satisfied with his work, Wade set the insect � a unique form of beetle known as the Capricorn � in a glass-covered box containing other immaculately preserved creatures.

Wade�s laboratory home was filled with bits of oddity, making it a modern day cabinet of curiosities. Wade was the proud owner of a set of scrolls dating back to the time of Cleopatra, a section of giant squid that had washed up on the shores of Massachusetts, and a life-size iron maiden device.

None of those treasures were as unique as Wade himself, however. Tall and rangy, he at first glance resembled nothing more than a college boy on vacation. He had a young face and dark hair that was so black that it bordered on blue. But it was the eyes that set him apart from other men: they gave him that quality that the old-timers would call �an old soul.� As cold as glacial ice, those eyes still managed to somehow convey a deep-seated kindness. They were revealing in the sense that one look at those eyes told you that Wade could either be a loyal friend or an implacable, merciless foe.

Raised in a lost civilization hidden from the eyes of the world in the heart of Africa, Wade had been trained in a number of bizarre arts. He had learned muscular control that made him the envy of the world�s greatest gymnasts and the secrets of hypnotism, sleight-of-hand and marksmanship were all second nature to him. But most potent of all was his idealism, honed to a fine point by the priests of the tribe, who had carried on the ancient secrets of the Minoans. Refugees from ancient Crete had established the civilization and its people still worshipped the mighty Minotaur.

Thunder Jim Wade, as most men and women addressed him, was now a troubleshooter by trade. Only certain people, who tended to come into contact with individuals in great danger, knew his phone number. They would, in turn, pass the information along to Wade, who would sometimes set aside his own affairs to make sure that innocent people were safe.

Foremost among his allies were Dirk Marat and Red Argyle. Dirk was an innocent-looking fellow, short with blond hair and black eyebrows, but he was a master of cold steel, be it knives or guns. Red was a thick-necked giant with massive hands and deft fingers. They accompanied Wade on adventures that defied description and were as close to him as brothers. He missed them now, for they were in America, wrapping up a case that Wade had recently solved involving the Knights Templar.

Some sixth sense made Wade pause, his body going rigid. He heard nothing other than the pounding rain against the roof and the steady tick-tock of the grandfather clock in the hall� but Wade was positive that something in his environment had changed. He was no longer alone.

Moving with purpose but without panic, Wade crossed to a painting of a bullfight that hung on the wall. He lifted it off the nail and set it on the floor, revealing a small safe recessed into the wall. A few twists of the dial opened the safe, revealing several rolled scrolls, maps and papers. Lying in front of those things was a handgun and Wade grabbed this, checking to make sure it was loaded, and then crept toward the door. He quietly turned the knob and opened it, peering outwards.

At first he saw nothing but the driving rain. Then a jagged bolt of lighting cut across the sky, illuminating the landscape. It was then that he saw them � three men on the shore, stripping off scuba gear. Behind them, a fourth man was climbing from the choppy seas.

Wade stared out into the sea, spotting what appeared to be a darkened vessel several miles from the island. It vanished from sight as the lightning�s brightness faded.

Wade started to move out into the darkness, hoping to take the invaders by surprise, but then he spotted more motion to his left. There were a half dozen more men, all armed with pistols, approaching his lair. Wade now knew that he was not facing simply a small group of attackers, but rather a large force of them.

Their mere presence on the island was shocking enough � the island was found on very few maps, hidden as it was behind a natural fog bank that had kept its existence a secret for centuries before Wade claimed it as his own. Thunder Island�s existence was whispered in some circles but the number of men who knew its precise location could be counted on one hand � at least as far as Wade was aware.

Slinking back inside his lab, Wade locked the door and pushed the pistol into the waistband of his slacks. How these men had found Thunder Island was less important than how to stop them. Once they were neutralized, he could question them in depth.

Wade smiled as he went to work, taking the time to light a cigarette before turning off all the lights in the building. He knew the interior so well that he didn�t need illumination to find his way around.

He moved to an interior room and sat down at an unusual desk. A typewriter was recessed into the top of the unit and alongside it were a television monitor and a number of strange controls. Wade flipped a small red switch on the side of the monitor and the screen flared to life, showing four different views on the television surface. Recently, high definition television had been shown to the public at the International Exposition in Paris � and Thunder Jim Wade had been present. He�d immediately acquired some of the equipment for use at his base. Now he had a crystal clear image of the lab�s four entrances.

The invaders had split into two groups � the half dozen men that Wade had spotted along the left side of the building were now outside the exit that led to the island�s green house. From the way one of them was crouched low, Wade assumed they were planting some sort of explosive to force their way in. The four men from the beach were now at the exit that Wade had himself used only a few moments earlier. One of them was in the midst of reaching for the door�s handle.

With a grim smile, Wade pressed another button on the controls before him. As soon as the man�s hand touched the handle, electricity flooded through him. It was enough volts to throw the man back a good ten feet, taking one of his fellows with him.

Another quick depression of buttons caused a bright floodlight to turn on above the man planting the explosives. From all around the light bulb, tiny nozzles began to spray out a fine green-tinted mist. The men, already blinded and confused, now began coughing as the gas seared their lungs. It wasn�t fatal but only the stoutest of men would still be conscious when its work was done.

A quick glance back at the other door showed that the remaining men were ignoring the thrashings of their electrocuted comrade. One of them was cautiously reaching out for the door handle. Wade wished he�d wired the device for more than one burst but since he hadn�t, the man was able to grip the handle and give it a turn. It was locked but the men were obviously prepared for that. One of them pointed his pistol against the knob and fired, blowing apart the locking mechanism.

As the men streamed inside, Wade coolly took one last drag on his cigarette before stamping it out in an ashtray. He stood up, letting his well-toned body relax. With a wry grin, he pushed up the sleeves of his shirt and strode out to meet the men who had invaded his home.

The three men moved slowly through the crowded lab, trying to stay quiet. They had all seen the lights go dark upon their approach and the information they possessed indicated that Wade was here� which meant that he was lying in wait for them.

Their leader, a stocky fellow with straw-blond hair, gestured for the other two to take up positions on either side of the door leading into Wade�s office. Once they were in place, he moved to the door, intending to kick it in.

Unfortunately for him, Thunder Jim Wade chose that moment to strike. Using the amazing gymnastic abilities he�d honed in the lost city of his youth, Wade was bent over double beneath one of the lab tables. It was an impossible position for most men but Wade unfolded himself without a sound and sprang toward the group�s leader.

The impact was enough to slam the man into the wall, his head cracking the plaster. Wade tossed the unconscious man at one of the other gunmen before moving to the third assailant.

Grabbing hold of the man�s wrist, Wade yanked him close and pointed the villain�s pistol at his remaining compatriot.

A strong grip caused the muzzle to flare as the bullet fired and the other man cried out as the bullet struck him in the throat.

Wade then drove an elbow into his captive�s face, breaking his nose. He grabbed the man by the hair and drove him hard into the side of a nearby table.

That quickly, it was over.

After stabilizing the injured man�s condition, Wade trussed them all up with extra-strength wire. A few moments later, he�d done the same to those who had been gassed. The fellow who�d taken the electrical burst was soaking wet but still alive. He, too, was placed in bondage.

By the time the first of the men began to revive, Wade had already searched their pockets. None of them carried any identification but the equipment they carried was German military-issue. Given how much trouble Wade had proven for the Nazi regime, he wasn�t entirely surprised� though he was very distressed to think that the safety of his base had been compromised. He liked it here and didn�t enjoy the idea that he might have to move.

The most distressing thing was the amazing amount of explosives they were carrying. Each man had enough on him to blow up a large-sized building.

A low groan told Wade that one of the men was waking up and he pulled a chair close, pushing the man�s head back so they could look into each other�s eyes.

Without preamble, Wade began the interrogation. �Whom do you work for?�

�Go to hell,� the man answered in heavily accented English.

Wade gripped the man by the chin, squeezing painfully hard. �Talk to me. Who�s on that boat out there? If you don�t have a radio on you, how were you going to contact them?�

The man hesitated before smiling. �We�re not meant to go back to the boat. Our orders were clear: kill you, and then blow up your lab. Our suicides after would be a sign of our loyalty.�

Wade couldn�t hide the shock that passed through him. �This was a suicide mission?�

�Yes. Leviathan wanted no loose ends. Everyone involved in this expedition knew what was being asked.�

�Who�s Leviathan?�

�You�d better hope you never get to find out.�

Wade noticed that more of the men were starting to stir. He was running a number of things through his mind: Who or what was Leviathan? What was the point of this attack? And why would they need to kill themselves if it proved successful?

�Auf wiedersehen, Herr Wade,� the first man said. He bit down hard, grinding his molars together. Wade recognized what he thought was a cyanide capsule but he quickly realized that this particular death was far more insidious. The man�s body began to shake and a strange cloud emanated from between his clenched teeth. The smell of almonds filled the air and as Wade covered his nose and mouth, he saw that the other men also began to convulse. Something was being released from the capsule that was activating something in the other men�s bloodstream.

There was to be no chickening out of the suicide game, Wade realized � all of them were assured of death when their leader thought it appropriate.

Hurrying outside once more, Wade stared off over the ocean. Despite the men�s claims that they were never meant to contact the ship again, the vessel was still in its same place. Perhaps, he mused, the ferocity of the storm made their escape inadvisable. Even now, the ship rocked violently back and forth.

Wade shut the door behind him, walking toward the large garage attached to the base. He had already put the ten corpses still in his home out of his mind � there would be time enough to deal with them later.

Once he�d entered the garage, a series of lights came on automatically, activated by the pressure of his footsteps on the floor.

In the center of the room was what appeared to be a large black plane. The truth was far greater than that, however. This was the Thunderbug, a super-convertible craft that had left the world�s greatest engineers dumbfounded by its very existence.

The Thunderbug could instantly transform into a lightweight, maneuverable tank. Thanks to its airtight nature, it could even function as a submarine, one propelled by a powerful screw.

Wade took great pride in the vehicle and he lovingly ran a hand along its exterior. �Let�s go get those bastards,� he whispered aloud.

Though the storm raged intensely above the waves, there was little sign of its elemental fury underwater. The Thunderbug pushed forward, the large screw at the back turning and churning up the waters and propelling it onward. The enemy ship was sighted easily enough and Wade piloted the unusual craft, breaking the water just off its forward bow. The ship was the size of a standard commercial fishing vessel, which meant that quarters had been tight with whatever crew it carried and the men who had gone to the beach � unless those were one and the same. If so, that could explain why the ship had never departed.

Wade opened the hatch on the Thunderbug and climbed out, carefully steadying himself before leaping toward the fishing vessel. He caught hold with his powerful hands and pulled himself up with barely a grunt, accomplishing the herculean task of climbing up the rain-slicked exterior of the ship and dropping down on the deck.

It was a ghost vessel, that much he understood immediately. There were no men to be seen and the only sounds were the creaking of wood and grinding of metal, as the boat rocked under the force of the storm.

Even so, Wade spared no precautions. He drew his pistol, brandishing it in one hand as he crept into the bowels of the ship. Every room was void of life, save for one. In the captain�s quarters, Wade heard movement and the telltale signs of human habitation.

Eager to find out who was behind this cowardly assault on his home, Wade kicked in the door and stepped inside, pistol at the ready.

What he saw brought him up short, however.

Seated on the floor, in the middle of a pentagram drawn in red paint � or was it blood?�� was a man wearing a loose-fitting black shirt, dark slacks and a pig�s head.

That it was an actual porcine skull, hollowed out and placed over the man�s head, was undeniable. The smell of the thing was awful and the skin held the sallow looseness that came with the dead.

Wade made sure that the barrel of the gun was leveled directly that the man�s head. �Are you Leviathan?�

The muffled voice sounded amused but distant. �I am but a mere servant named Cambion. I cannot say that I am surprised to see you, however. The Master told me that it was possible that our men would fail in this mission.�

�Then why try it?�

The ship lurched to the side as a wave crashed into it. �If we were to succeed, great honor would fall upon our spirits. If we were to fail, it was in service to our dread lord. Both are acceptable outcomes.�

Wade grunted and strode toward Cambion, grabbing hold of the horrible mask and yanking it free. When he saw the slickened face of the man beneath, he wrinkled his nose. Cambion was covered in blood and sweat, his eyes wide with mad devotion.

Wade placed the barrel of the gun against Cambion�s head. �Leviathan. Where can I find him?�

�In Hell.� Cambion�s eyes flickered toward something on the wall. �Soon, you and I can join him there.�

Wade followed his gaze, seeing a wall clock. It was two minutes to midnight.

The Witching Hour.

Cambion began laughing and Wade knew that this man was another suicidal fool.

With a muttered oath, Wade burst from the room, leaving behind the mocking laughter of Cambion. He sprinted to the deck, well aware of the meaning behind Cambion�s bizarre behavior.

At midnight, the last evidence of this assault was going to be blown sky high.

Wade threw himself over the railing, landing hard on Thunderbug�s left wing. He scrambled toward the hatch and had barely ducked inside when Leviathan�s ship exploded. The force of the blast knocked Thunderbug under the waves and Wade yanked the hatch shut, cutting off the flood of water that had begun to sink inside.

Panting from exertion, Wade found his way to the cockpit and sat down heavily. He was facing a terrible foe, one that placed little value on the lives of his followers. Worse still, Leviathan knew secrets that no one save for Wade and his closest cohorts should know.

A grim expression took hold of Wade�s features. He had to warn Dirk and Red before they, too, fell victim to Leviathan�s schemes.

Lazarus Gray walked through the quiet halls of 6196 Robeson Avenue, enjoying the sound of rainfall striking the building�s rooftop. The rest of Assistance Unlimited were out, dealing with the aftereffects of their most recent case: a madman named The Golden Vulture had unleashed several dozen trained birds on the city, using them in a bizarre scheme to commit murder and extortion. It had been a strange job, one that had been brought to their collective attention by one of the would-be extortion victims. In the end, The Golden Vulture had been thrown in jail and his birds turned over to the proper authorities. Now the team was busy filling out paperwork with the police, a necessary but tedious process. Lazarus had done his portion as quickly as possible and his reward had been a solitary evening alone, which was his goal all along.

Lazarus stopped outside the apartment that had once belonged to Abigail Cross. Next door was where Eidolon � Jakob Sporrenberg, he mentally corrected himself � had resided. Both were now gone, their rooms having been left exactly as they had been. Abby was missing, presumed dead, after vanishing into a strange vortex with The Darkling. Jakob was still out there, stories in the papers revealing that in his new identity of Eidolon, he was waging a very bloody war on the underworld. Eidolon had so far stayed far from Sovereign, which was fine with Lazarus.

In his left hand, Lazarus was idly playing with the gold medallion he�d carried with him from his old life into the new. He�d woken up on the shores of Sovereign City with it on his person, the only clue to his past. With the words �Lazarus Gray� carved on one side and an image of a nude man with the head of a roaring lion on the other, it had seemed like a peculiar relic at the time� later on, he�d come to realize its importance, both of its own peculiar occult power and for the history it symbolized. Lazarus dropped the medallion into a pocket, trying in vain to push away the shroud of melancholy that was surrounding him.

Lazarus withdrew a skeleton key and unlocked the door, stepping into a room that immediately reminded him of what they�d lost. Abby�s eclectic personal belongings lay scattered about in what could only be described as utter chaos. An open book lay on her messy bedcovers and the scent of her favorite perfume, mixed with the smell of incense, filled the air.

Abby had flirted with everyone, including Lazarus. The stoic leader of Assistance Unlimited was not immune to her charms, though they�d never acted upon their mutual attraction. In fact, it wasn�t those feelings that caused such a pang of regret in Lazarus� heart.

He felt like he�d failed both Abby and Jakob, as if he should have somehow been better for the both of them. If he�d acted faster to rescue Jakob from The Darkling�s clutches� if he�d realized what the headstrong Abby had been planning at the end� perhaps both of them would still be here today.

Lazarus looked at a few of the books on Abby�s shelves before noticing a battered leather journal stuck behind those volumes in the front. He plucked it out and opened it, recognizing her flowing script immediately. It was her diary, a compendium of private thoughts and dreams. He scanned a few of the pages, noticing his own name more than once, before closing it and dropping it back into its hiding place. Even if she were dead � and he wasn�t willing to yet acknowledge that possibility � he would never violate her privacy. When the day came to empty this room, he�d make sure the diary was sealed up tight in a box, never to be read by anyone.

Suddenly feeling uncomfortable in his friend�s room, Lazarus started to step back into the hallway. It was then that he heard a peculiar sound, like the popping of a balloon. It had come from downstairs, in the vicinity of the front door.

Stealthily, he descended the steps, peering around the corner as he reached the bottom. What he saw made his mismatched eyes � one a dull brown, the other a startling emerald, open wide in disbelief.

Three men were entering the front door, which hung askew from its hinges. A small amount of a putty-like substance was attached to the doorknob. Smoke wafted from the substance and Lazarus could smell the acrid odor from his vantage point. Due to the stormy weather outside, each of the men was dripping wet, the moisture forming small puddles at their feet.

Some sort of plastic explosive, Lazarus realized. From the way the three men were dressed � in dark clothes, with gloves on their hands, and pistols cocked and ready � it was dreadfully apparent that this was a well-planned assault.

Assistance Unlimited had many enemies and the location of their headquarters was hardly a secret. This had led to a few attacks on the structure over the years but most of them ended up being foiled before their masterminds ever made it to the door.

Lazarus was wearing a button-down shirt, tie and slacks. Thankfully, he was far from unarmed. Holstered over the left side of his chest was a .45 automatic and he quickly drew it now, knowing that these next few seconds were going to be important ones.

Lazarus heard the men muttering to each other in German but their voices were too low for him to make out their words. Before the trio had taken more than a few steps inside, Lazarus sprang into action: he jumped down from the stairs and opened fire, his exquisite aim allowing him to lay two of the men low with well-placed shots to their right arms. Both dropped their weapons and staggered back in shock.

The third man, who seemed to be the leader in both bearing and confidence, returned fire without hesitation. The bullet whizzed past Lazarus� ear, tearing through the plaster behind him.

Lazarus sprinted toward the other man, weaving back and forth in hopes of distracting the fellow�s aim. He successfully dodged the next two blasts but the third struck home in the meat of Lazarus� left thigh.

Gritting his teeth, Lazarus reached his foe and delivered a powerful roundhouse punch that would have left Max Baer feeling envious.

Before the other two men could recover from their gunshot wounds, Lazarus slammed each with the butt of his gun, breaking the nose of one and cracking the cheek of the other.

Lazarus then pressed the smoking barrel of his gun against the temple of the trio�s leader. The man�s mouth was dripping blood and he winced at the touch of the hot metal.

�Give me names or I pull the trigger.�

The man looked up, wiping his chin on the sleeve of his coat. He had bright blue eyes and a weather-beaten face. �You are no murderer, Herr Gray. We know you too well to believe otherwise.�

�Do you work for the Nazis? Or The Illuminati?�

�Neither. Those are transitory groups, for whom history will scarcely cast in a positive light. We serve someone much older and far more powerful.�

Lazarus had no patience for games. He pistol-whipped the man and watched as he slid to the floor, unconscious. He was prepared to search their clothing for clues to their employer but his plans were interrupted by the sound of shattering glass from the rear of the building.

Suddenly realizing that his home was under assault from all sides, Lazarus took a moment to move behind what had been the clerk�s desk during the days that this building had been a luxury hotel. Instead of room keys, he found a box of shells. He reloaded his pistol and dropped the rest of the box into the front pocket of his slacks. There was spreading warmth along his leg but he didn�t take the time to examine his bullet wound. There was no time.

His last action before moving in search of the intruders was to press a button hidden beneath the counter. In the old days, it would have alerted the police that there was trouble at the hotel. Now, it served to lock down the entire building. Bulletproof shields slid down over every window and door, preventing anyone from entering or leaving the building. The only way out now would be to use the unusual-shaped key given to each member of Assistance Unlimited.

Lazarus Gray allowed himself the smallest of grim smiles: That meant that the men who had broken into his home were now the prey, rather than the hunters.

The four men who had entered the building through the rear brandished automatic weapons and their tense movements made it clear that they were well aware of the danger they faced. At the forefront was a man whose unusual appearance made Lazarus once more wonder whom it was that he was facing. The man wore a form-fitting mask over his upper face and cheeks, painted to look like a fiery demon of hell. The lower half of his features were pockmarked and adorned by a Van Dyke beard that was ebony in color.

Lazarus watched them from a hallway that led to Assistance Unlimited�s briefing rooms. He waited until the men were about to pass by his hiding place before he went into action.

Emerging from the shadows, Lazarus said, �Put your hands up.�

The masked figure shook his head, pointing his own weapon at Lazarus. His mates did the same, dark smiles forming on their faces. �I think we have you outnumbered, Mr. Gray. In fact, if you haven�t already encountered them, you might be interested to know that there are three more of us loose in your home.�

�I�ve already dealt with them.�

�Of course you have. Our master was quite sure that you would defeat us all but I have to admit, I doubted his wisdom. I still do. There�s no way you can emerge from this unscathed. It looks like you�re already wounded, actually.�

Lazarus knew that the blood on his leg was seeping through his clothing but he ignored it. �You might be right that I wouldn�t be able to take out all four of you before you shot me to death � but I�m pretty sure I could take out at least two of you. Maybe three. So I�d say you�re taking quite the gamble.�

�Death is nothing to us,� the masked man replied. �I am Ronove, named after the grand marquis of Hell. And I serve the dark lord known as Leviathan.�

Leviathan.

The name echoed throughout the mind of Assistance Unlimited�s leader. Leviathan was a bogeyman of sorts, a name whispered of by those in The Illuminati. It was said that his organization rivaled that of the secret society itself but no one that Lazarus had met had ever crossed paths with an agent of Leviathan�s group. During his days as Richard Winthrop, Lazarus had made brief inquiries into the existence of Leviathan, only to be steered away from the subject by his mentor, Walther Lunt.

�Leviathan is a myth.�

�He�s a myth with one hell of a temper, then.� Ronove gestured to his followers. �Kill him.�

Lazarus smiled as the intruders� bullets shot forth in a barrage of sound and fury. The bullets seemed to bounce off the air before Lazarus, ricocheting back toward the men who had fired them. Down they went, all save for Ronove, who backed up against the wall, a shell lodged in his chest. Without immediate medical assistance, it would be a fatal blow.

Lazarus reached out to touch the wall at his left, his fingers finding a small, almost invisible button set into the recess. A hum indicated that the bulletproof glass that had separated him from his enemies was sliding back down into the floor. �Fighting me on my home ground was a mistake,� he murmured. �There�s not a room in this building that�s not designed for my defense.�

Ronove coughed and a small wave of blood bubbled up from his mouth, dripping down his chin. He smiled, revealing crimson-stained teeth. �I almost pity you, Lazarus Gray.�

�And why is that?� Lazarus stepped over the groaning forms on the floor.

�Because you have no idea what�s coming for you.� Ronove opened his mouth wide and then clamped his jaw shut. A hissing sound gave Lazarus a bit of warning and he covered his face as a strange gas escaped Ronove�s twitching lips. The men on the floor responded in kind, their bodies beginning to thrash about before finally growing still.

With the scent of almonds clinging to the air, Lazarus hurried from the room. He had no doubt that the other intruders possessed the same means of suicide.

Why would Leviathan have taken aim at him? And how could he inspire such lunacy in his followers?

A chill ran down his spine as he realized that he might not be the only one at risk: What if Leviathan had turned his hideous gaze upon the rest of Assistance Unlimited as well?

Dirk Marat was a small man, with blond hair and black eyebrows. In the right light, he could almost have been called �pretty,� though he would have bristled at that description. He kept his nails trimmed and his hair just so, not because he was a dandy but because he took his work seriously. He was an agent of Thunder Jim Wade and that meant something.

Red Argyle, on the other hand, was always one shade up from �shabby.� A burly giant with oversized hands, Red preferred casual clothing that hung loosely on his large frame. The two men were seated side-by-side on the steadily rocking train that was taking them away from Kansas City. The Knights Templar affair that Wade had put an end to had been a typically deadly thing and the authorities had insisted that someone remain in town to answer whatever questions they came up with. Given that Wade had worked himself to near exhaustion, it made sense for him to return to their island base and recover.

�Want a smoke?� Red asked, reaching into the pocket of his flannel shirt and retrieving a pack of cigarettes.

Dirk gave a shake of his head, keeping his gaze fastened on the pretty redhead seated at the other end of the coach car. She was dressed to the nines, just the way he liked them, and kept shyly glancing in his direction. �Hold onto that for me, Red. I�ll be back.�

Red watched with a bemused expression as Dirk slid from his seat and sauntered over to the cute girl. He lit up his cigarette and laid his head back, closing his eyes. The rhythm of the train helped lull him to sleep and prevented him from seeing the two men who entered the car and began moving toward him.

�Hello, miss.�

The pretty redhead looked up to see Dirk run a hand through his hair. She smiled, a faint blush reaching her cheeks. Her eyes twinkled as he slid into the empty seat across from her. �How are you?�

�Doing better by the second,� he replied. He offered a hand. �Dirk Marat.�

Her slim fingers closed around his hand. �Heloise Grant.� After biting her lower lip, she asked, �So are you really THE Dirk Marat? I thought I recognized you.�

Dirk chuckled. It was rare, but not unknown, for people to pick him out of the crowd. Thunder Jim Wade�s face occasionally snuck into the papers and since Dirk and Red were almost always at his side, they�d acquired a bit of fame themselves. �As far as I know, the one and only.�

Heloise seemed charmed by the possibility of meeting a celebrity. She leaned forward, close enough that her enchanting perfume reached Dirk�s nostrils. �What on earth are you doing on this train? I thought you and Thunder Jim traveled the globe in the Thundercar!�

�Thunderbug,� Dirk corrected with a laugh. �It�s back at the base with Jim. Red and I are headed to the airport so we can fly back and join him.�

�Oh,� she said, looking crestfallen. �I was hoping you could take me to dinner tonight.�

�You move fast. I like that.� Dirk cleared his throat. �Well, I might could talk Red into taking a flight tomorrow. That would give us one night at least.�

Heloise looked around, her face taking on a naughty cast. �I�d hate to put you out like that� would you mind stepping outside with me?�

Dirk followed her gaze and saw that she was referring to the small area where you could stand before stepping onto the next car. Since it was dark out, you could barely see if anyone was there.

A flush came to his own cheeks as he considered the possibilities. �If you�d like,� he stammered. He glanced over at Red and saw the other man snoozing away. �Let�s go.�

Red opened his eyes just as the train entered a tunnel. The car plunged into darkness and he opened his mouth to yawn but a solid club to the side of the head sent him tumbling out of his seat.

Barely able to think straight, Red allowed his instincts to kick in. The dim lights in the cabin allowed him to only barely make out the two men who were attacking him but that was enough. He charged them, arms extended, and caught them both in the midsections. His strength, combined with the momentum of his movement, allowed him to sweep them off their feet and into the seats on the other side of the car.

Red grabbed one of the men by the collar and yanked him forward. He slammed a mallet-like fist into the man�s nose, crushing it. Before he could turn his attention on the other fellow, the man drove a nightstick into Red�s belly.

Staggering back, Red barely managed to throw his arms up as the club-wielding attacker sprang toward him. Again and again the nightstick was raised and repeatedly it slammed into Red�s arms and hands.

Grunting with pain, Red kicked at the other man�s knee. The blow was answered with a sickening crack and a cry of pain.

Red reached out and yanked the nightstick free from the man�s grasp. Two quick blows to the fellow�s face were enough to bring the battle to a close.

As he stood there panting, something chilling occurred to Red: Where was Dirk? The little man surely would have aided him if he could have� So where was he?

Heloise�s mouth was warm and inviting. She kissed Dirk hungrily, pushing him back against the door. The wind was whipping their hair and clothing, which ordinarily would have bothered the fastidious Dirk. But the beauty that was embracing him was far more important than his appearance.

The train entered the tunnel and all was dark. He felt her hands running over his back, then around front, up his chest, then over his neck. Her fingers left his skin for a brief second and then they were back again� but something was different this time.

A garrote was now around his throat and the girl pulled away from the kiss as she began to tighten it, cutting off Dirk�s ability to breathe. He tried to slap her hands away, even as the wire bit into his neck, drawing blood.

The girl hissed as she tried to kill him and as the pounding began in his ears, Dirk heard her say, �Leviathan strikes, Mr. Marat. He cannot be denied.�

Dirk grunted, trying to focus. His vision was starting to swim and he knew that he was literally moments away from dying. Unlike all the stories he�d heard, his life didn�t flash before him. Rather, things seemed to slow down considerably � he could hear every ragged, strained gasp that escaped his lips; he could see the rustle of Heloise�s dress in the wind; and he thought he heard the sound of battle from within the train car.

Forcing himself to not fight back, Dirk dropped one of his hands to his jacket. His trembling fingers touched cold steel and he drew out a small blade, strength seeming to rush into his hand as it closed around the hilt. Something about edged weapons gave him solace, even in the worst of situations. It was like knives and swords were extensions not of his body but of his very soul.

The blade shot up, catching Heloise in the torso. It sliced easily through both her clothes and her flesh, bathing him in blood. Heloise cried out as the blade dug a deep furrow from her navel to her breast.

Losing her grip on the garrote, Heloise stumbled back with an expression of shock on her face.

Dirk coughed, taking in several deep breaths. He hated striking a woman and never would have dealt such a mortal blow under normal circumstances but he�d been forced to do something dire to save his own life.

Even so, he reached out to her, intent on doing whatever he could to save her.

Heloise knocked his hand away and coughed, a small flood of gore passing over her lips. Despite her situation, she smiled, her formerly white teeth now stained crimson. �Leviathan,� she hissed, tiny bubbles of blood foaming with every word. �There�s no escape.�

Before Dirk could say anything in response, Heloise threw herself back, crashing to the tracks just as the train exited the tunnel. Her body was crushed beneath the mighty wheels and Dirk, who had seen too many horrors to count, felt the bile rise in his throat. He staggered back into the passenger car, a dazed look on his face, and came to an abrupt halt when he saw the mess waiting within.

Red, wiping at a bloody spot on the side of his head, turned to face him with a morose expression. �One of these days, your chasing after dames is gonna get us both killed.�

Two hours later, Red was on the phone with Wade, trying to explain the situation. Both he and Dirk were at the police station, unable to leave until all the requisite paperwork had been filed. �I�ve never heard of this guy, have you?�

Wade�s voice was hard to hear over the static-filled line but the majority of his words came through. �I�ve been looking into that. Apparently, there�s a crime cartel that answers to this mysterious figure � they�re almost cult-like in the way they operate, using supernatural symbolism and names at every opportunity.�

�Crime cartel?� Red muttered. �I thought we�d heard of all of the big ones. Since you said your guys were all Germans, think it�s some Nazi scheme?�

�It�s possible there�s a relationship but I think this goes beyond the Nazis. This group operates under a variety of names, depending on what city or country they�re in. The one recurring theme seems to be that ultimately they serve a leader named Leviathan.�

�Well, the guys I beat up aren�t going to be answering any questions. They pulled the same suicide routine that you said the others did.�

�I�m not surprised. That seems to be par for the course with them. I was able to give a thorough search of the men who attacked the island, though. I believe that at least one of them was recently in Africa. He had a matchbook bearing the name of Kafe Klaris.�

�That�s in Cairo, right?�

�It is. I�m going to head there. As soon as you two are done with the authorities, try to join me.�

�Will do, amigo. But be careful, okay?�

Wade�s laugh made it clear what he thought about that suggestion. He hung up and Red handed the phone to the officer whose desk he had borrowed. �Thanks,� he muttered, before moving to find Dirk.

The blond man was chatting up a police secretary, regaling her with a story about the Poison People that they�d run into a while back. When he saw that Red was done with his call, he handed a card with his number on it to the girl and hurried over. He wore a scarf around his neck, hiding the wounds on his neck.

Red couldn�t help but feel a bit envious. Dirk could carry off wearing a crimson kerchief around the neck but he�d have looked silly trying to do the same.

�What did he say?� Dirk asked.

�He�s headed to Cairo. Thinks he has a lead on one of the guys who worked for Leviathan. We�re to join up with him.�

Dirk nodded, casting a glance around at the men and women surrounding them. �We can�t trust anybody.�

�Not even the girl you just gave your number to?�

Dirk grinned. �Especially not her.�

Inspector Cord of the Sovereign P.D. disliked his guests.

A lot.

Whippet-thin and possessed of one eye that seemed to be perpetually narrowed, Cord was a dichotomy on the force. Unlike many of his cohorts in Sovereign, he wasn�t on the take. But he still managed to view Assistance Unlimited as a threat, despite all the work they�d put into ridding the city of graft and scandal.

What it came down to, Cord liked to think, was that Assistance Unlimited was one step away from all-out vigilantism. Lazarus Gray and his minions gallivanted around, breaking and entering as they pleased, and nobody said a thing because they were doing it �for the greater good.�

Cord nervously worked the toothpick that poked out of one corner of his mouth, watching as Morgan Watts finished signing his name to his statement. Cord had already taken the same from Eun Jiwon and Samantha Grace, leaving those two to chat amiably in the corner of his office.

�Anything else, Inspector?� Morgan asked, smiling broadly as he handed over the papers. Cord particularly disliked Watts, having busted the man several times before Morgan�s �transformation� into a good guy.

�Don�t get smart with me,� Cord hissed.

Morgan chuckled. �I don�t know what you mean.�

�All of you think you�re above the law, but you�re not. Sooner or later, you and that boss of yours are gonna cross the line and when you do, I�m going to throw your asses in jail!�

Samantha moved closer to the Inspector, having heard the exchange. The fiery young Korean, Eun, stood just behind her, tensed like a snake ready to strike. �Inspector, we�re not your enemies,� she said. Her lovely features were enough to soften even the rough edges of Cord�s personality and he sighed before speaking.

�I appreciate that, Miss Grace. Your family�s good people.�

�So are my friends.�

Cord grunted but said nothing. He began making his own notations on the papers, ignoring the members of Assistance Unlimited as they filed from the room.

�That miserable piece of crap,� Eun muttered as the trio stepped out onto the rain-slicked streets of the city. The downpour had ceased but you wouldn�t know by the numerous small streams of water that made walking and driving a hazard on this night. �I�d like to see him deal with the likes of Murder Unlimited, or Femi without us around to bail him out of the fire!�

�He�s just scared,� Samantha said. Smoothing down her skirt as they approached their car, she added, �I know several people who view Lazarus as something foreign. Enough of the truth seeps into the papers for everyone to know that the things we investigate aren�t always normal. Cord feels inadequate compared to us.�

�You�re like a prettier Sigmund Freud,� Morgan teased, drawing an icy glare from his female companion.

�It wouldn�t hurt you to read some of his works. But I actually wasn�t trying to psychoanalyze Inspector Cord. I was just pointing out the obvious.�

Morgan reached the passenger side of the car first and he opened it for Samantha, who slid into her seat. Eun took his customary spot in the back while Morgan got behind the wheel. He was steering the car out onto the street when he glanced at Samantha and asked, �Did anybody else think that old Lazarus was trying to get some alone time back at the base? I was wondering if he was inviting Kelly over for a nightcap.�

�You know him better than that,� Samantha said. �Besides, they�re still� I don�t know what they�re doing, to be honest. They have feelings for each other but they�re both so convinced that it�s never going to work out that they�re not really trying.�

Morgan could understand that very well. He�d been seeing Molly Simms on and off for a while now, their relationship on permanent hold because of the demands of his work with Assistance Unlimited. He�d come close to calling it off completely because of the guilt he felt � he felt Molly deserved more than he could give.

Before Morgan could reply, Eun leaned forward. He was pointing straight ahead as he said, �What the hell is that?�

Morgan slammed on the brakes. A strange fog had rolled in, the sort of pea-souper that Sovereign sometimes got down on the pier, but never in the middle of town. It was so thick that Morgan could scarcely see more than a few feet in front of the vehicle � and it seemed to be closing in on them like a shroud.

�There�s something out there,� Samantha whispered, leaning close to the windshield.

�Hopefully it�s not another car about to plow into us!� Morgan murmured.

�It looks like people,� Eun said. The young Korean opened the door and stepped out into the fog. Raising his voice, he yelled, �Get out of the road! You�re going to get hurt!�

Eun narrowed his eyes. Something about the shape of the silhouettes moving toward him� He recognized the danger just as the man closest to him raised a pistol and fired. The bullet narrowly missed Eun, who threw his body away from the car with incredible speed. He hit the ground in a roll, coming up into a crouch. He could make out his opponents now: four men, dressed in matching black suits and hats. Each was armed with automatic weapons and all four took aim at Eun.

Certain death for Eun was avoided as Morgan floored the accelerator on the car. The vehicle roared to life, slamming into two of the men � one went flying over the hood of the car while the other was crushed beneath the wheels.

Eun cried out and jumped up into a fighting stance. One of the best martial artists in the world, he rushed toward the two remaining men with supreme confidence. He spun about and kicked the gun from the closest man�s hands and then finished him off with a two-handed chop to the throat.

Eun turned to face the remaining man but the crack of a gun made him duck suddenly. When he opened his eyes, he saw the man hit the ground, a smoking hole between his eyes. Eun looked over at the car, where Samantha was standing outside the passenger side door, pistol in hand.

�Did you have to kill him?� Morgan asked, exiting the vehicle. �We just left Cord�s office and now we have to explain why we blew some guy away in the street?�

Samantha pouted. �Says the man who just ran over two people.�

Eun grunted. Personally, he was on Samantha�s side but he knew that Lazarus would probably come down in agreement with Morgan. �Watch that one,� he warned, gesturing toward the fellow who had rolled over the hood. The man was rising to his hands and knees, shaking his head to clear it.

Samantha started to raise her gun but Morgan stopped her with an upraised hand. �Wait a minute,� he said. �I think I know this guy.�

The man grinned through the specks of blood that covered his lips. Every time he exhaled, more of the fine spray burst forth from his mouth. �Sure you know me, Morgan. We spent lots of time together in the old days. But you�re not in the rackets any more, are you? You�re a whole new man.�

�That�s right. I am.� Morgan glanced at Samantha, adding, �This is Tommy Mattola.�

�You ran me over with your car,� Tommy said, clutching his side. �That how you say hello to an old friend?�

�You were trying to kill my friend.�

�The chink? He doesn�t mean anything.�

Morgan moved toward the injured man. �What�s the deal? Were you and your friends waiting to plug us?�

Tommy nodded, his grin broadening. Morgan thought to himself that there was madness in his old friend�s eyes. �Yeah, that was the plan. Nothin� personal, old pal. But when the boss says jump, I just smile and ask, �how high?��

�And which boss is that? You working for The Monster?� Morgan asked, referencing the mysterious underworld figure that had clashed so often with Doc Daye.

Tommy reached out and grabbed hold of Morgan�s arm. He yanked the older man close, his rancid breath making Morgan recoil in disgust. �The Monster�s nothin� compared to the guy I work for! I bow down before the master of sin.�

�Devil worshipping, Tommy? That doesn�t sound like you.�

�Leviathan is darkness incarnate,� Tommy continued, using the words of a zealot. �And he thinks the days of Assistance Unlimited should come to an end� so they will.�

�Let go of me, Tommy.�

�No. Not until you see the truth.� Tommy opened his mouth, stretching it so wide that Morgan could hear the man�s jaw cracking. Something dark and moist emerged from Tommy�s gagging throat, its scales shimmering in the moonlight. The serpent, dripping fangs bared, shot forth toward Morgan.

With a startled yell, Morgan yanked his arm free and fell to the ground, even as the snake continued to escape from Tommy�s twitching form. The serpent began its descent, its vile eyes fixed on Morgan.

�Shoot him!� Morgan screamed. To his dismay, Samantha shot the man, not the snake. Throwing his hands up to ward off the serpent, Morgan began uttering a series of obscenities. He was sure that this was the end and that he would meet his fate at the creature�s poisonous fangs. Not wanting to go out without a fight, he girded himself to attack the snake as best he could.

For a moment, nothing seemed to happen � the snake was gone as quickly as it had appeared. Morgan looked around in confusion, seeing that Eun and Samantha were watching him closely.

Eun knelt down beside him and asked, �You okay?�

�The snake! Where did it go?�

�Snake?� Eun looked at Samantha. �Did you see any snake?�

As Samantha shook her head, Morgan scrambled to his feet. �The snake that crawled out of his mouth!� he said hotly. His normally picture-perfect tie and suit were disheveled. �You�re telling me that you didn�t see that?�

�That�s exactly what I�m saying.� Eun gestured around. The fog was still present but it was beginning to fade, carried away by a soft wind that had blown through. �There might be a snake around here but it sure didn�t pop out of his mouth!�

�What the hell is going on out here?!�

All three of them turned to see Inspector Cord and a small cadre of officers rushing down the street toward them, having finally been roused by the sound of gunfire.

Morgan exhaled slowly, adjusting his tie. �Okay. This is now officially the strangest night I�ve had in awhile.�

When the trio finally made their way back into their headquarters, they found Lazarus sitting in the welcoming area, tiny spots of blood on his clothing.

�Chief!� Samantha exclaimed. �What happened?�

�Our base was attacked,� he answered in that clinical fashion they were so familiar with. �The men committed suicide rather than face capture. They said their leader was named Leviathan.�

�We ran into some of his goons, too,� Eun responded. �We think they might have engineered some kind of fog to hide their presence � and then they must have drugged Morgan, because he was seeing things that weren�t there.�

Lazarus stood up, placing hands on hips and facing his friends. �I�ve been doing some digging through my newspaper clippings file. The name Leviathan� it�s linked to criminal activity all over the globe. During Richard Winthrop�s days with The Illuminati, he was told that Leviathan was a myth, that there was no all-powerful figure that was directing the underworld. But that may have been a lie.�

�Who is he supposed to be?� Morgan asked, stepping forward. He remained standing, leaning against the armrest of a couch, while Samantha and Eun took seats.

�There are lots of stories but the one that comes up most often says he�s a former war hero who made a deal with the devil � he was granted renewed life in return for his service in the cause of evil. Regardless of whether or not that�s true, there�s someone out there using the name Leviathan � and he�s targeted us.�

�What are we going to do about it?� Eun asked, cracking his knuckles. The look of anticipation on his face made it clear that he was wanting for some action.

�We need to track him down,� Lazarus answered. �And I think I have an idea where he might be hiding.� Lazarus reached into a pocket and retrieved a small slip of paper. He held it out to Morgan. �Do you mind reading it aloud?�

Morgan stared at the words for a moment and then said, �Retrieve any files from Gray�s office that appear to be of interest and then turn them over to M. Garrity.�

�M. Garrity?� Samantha asked. �That name rings a bell�.�

�It should,� Lazarus confirmed. �Matthew Garrity works and lives in Salem, Massachusetts. When we were taking down The Illuminati, we investigated him because his name turned up in several of the papers Morgan recovered during an investigation of the group�s Parisian storehouses. We were never able to pin him down directly to The Illuminati� but all of us felt he was up to no good.�

�So are we heading to Salem now?� Morgan asked.

�All of you rest up for a bit. Meet me back down here in about three hours. Then we�ll go pay Mr. Garrity a visit � and find out just what he knows about Leviathan.�

Thunder Jim strode through the crowded streets of Cairo, a cigarette tucked in the corner of his mouth. He wore jodhpurs and a khaki shirt. The shirt was unbuttoned halfway down his chest, revealing a smooth but well-tanned set of pectorals.

Cairo was alive with activity and the marketplace was the beating heart of the city. The sights and sounds were quite familiar to Wade, who had not only spent most of the formative years of his youth in Africa but had visited the continent on numerous occasions since.

The Kafe Klaris lay situated between a small temple and a supply store. Opened a few years prior, it catered to tourists, playing up their misconceptions about Egypt�s history. At night, the band � swathed in bandages � played modern tunes while the waitresses wore elaborate but inaccurate period clothing. Sarcophagi and stuffed cats were artfully arranged for full effect.

Wade and his men generally preferred more authentic dives when visiting the city but Kafe Klaris could be counted on for several things: attractive female staff, excellent cuisine and Josef the Liar.

Despite his nickname, Josef was one of the most trustworthy men in all of Cairo. Sixty years old, thin as a rail, and possessed of a bottomless appetite for alcohol and women, Josef spent nearly all his waking hours at the Kafe Klaris, sitting in a booth near the back. He made money by selling secrets, frequently trading one bit of information for another that could profit him later.

Wade ignored the man at the door, pushing past him with barely a glance. The fellow started to complain but upon closer examination, he recognized Wade and thought better of it.

�Josef!� Wade said, sliding into the booth alongside the Egyptian. �It�s been too long.�

Josef, remembering how well Wade had paid him in the past, was all too quick to agree. �What can I help you with, Mr. Thunder?�

�Hell, you can call me Jim, if you want.�

�Very good!� Josef exclaimed. �Jim!�

Wade smiled and gestured for a pretty, dark-haired waitress to bring both of them drinks. When she returned, Wade took a sip and allowed the burning liquid to slide down his throat. �I want to know about Leviathan,� he said at last, once the alcohol had sunk to his stomach.

Very quickly, Josef shook his head. �I don�t know about this person.�

�You�re lying.�

Josef started to rise but Wade caught him by the wrist, holding him fast. �I�ve never seen you refuse to offer up information. You haven�t even bothered naming your price!�

Josef leaned in close, lowering his voice. �There is no amount of money worth this! You do not know what you are asking. Forget that name!�

�I can�t. Leviathan sent men to kill me at my home and my friends Red and Dirk were attacked in America.�

�Then it is too late, my friend. Leviathan will not be denied. If you are a target of his, then it is only a matter of time until you depart this world.�

�Thanks for the vote of confidence.� Wade dabbed out his cigarette in an ashtray and reached into one of his pockets. He pulled out a thick wad of cash and pushed it into Josef�s hands. The older man gawked at the money and then hurriedly shoved it out of sight. �Just tell me what you know,� Wade said. �If it pans out, I�ll consider making you a rich man for the rest of your life. A fair deal.�

Josef sighed, lowering his eyes. He seemed to be resigning himself to the fact that he was about to take his life in his hands. �They say he was born in Europe but no one knows his true name. Some claim that he was killed in 1915, during the Great War. That as he lay rotting on the field of battle, a demonic force came to him, swathed in crimson. The horned demon woke up the man�s spirit and offered to let him live anew, in exchange for his soul and an eternal vow of servitude. The man agreed and in that moment he became both more and less than human. He became Leviathan. Now he oversees a worldwide organization that focuses on white slavery, prostitution and drug peddling. He wants to corrupt the innocent.�

Wade shook his head. �I don�t want legends or lies. You and I both know that we�re dealing with a flesh and blood man � a brilliant one capable of controlling the minds of others, perhaps � but he�s as human as you or I. So skip the bull and get to the facts. Where can I find him?�

�It is said that he has a base on every continent.�

�So there�s one here in Africa,� Wade said, pleased that the trail seemed clearer. At least one of the men � and possibly all � which attacked his island base was from the African lair of Leviathan. �Can you tell me where-?�

Josef looked hesitant. �I wish you would not do this. I like you, Jim. You are a good, decent man, and there are not many like you in this world.�

�I can�t ignore the existence of someone like Leviathan. Even if he wasn�t coming after me, I�d do everything I could to smash this cartel of his.�

�I know.� Josef sat back, shaking his head. �It is inevitable, that two great forces who are so different should eventually clash. His lair is hidden deep in the jungle, far from the civilized places of Africa.� Josef called over a waitress and requested paper and pencil. When they had been provided, he quickly sketched out a rough map and handed it to Wade. �May Allah have mercy upon you.�

�Save your prayers for Leviathan,� Wade replied with a grin. �He�s going to need them.�

Illuminated by moonlight, The Thunderbug traveled down the river at a steady clip, partially submerged. Josef�s directions had led Wade far from Cairo. He felt a pang of regret that Red and Dirk weren�t with him � not only could he have used their skills but he missed their company, as well.

He finally brought the nearly silent vessel to a halt. The river was narrowing up ahead and from the maps he�d been studying, Leviathan�s lair was located a bit inland. As Wade opened the hatch, a series of startled herons took flight and a crocodile slid from the bank, vanishing into the river�s gloom.

Wade paused for a moment, staring into the eyes of a rhino that had been drinking from the river when the Thunderbug approached. The great beast snorted and pawed at the earth before turning round and leaving.

Wade jumped from the ship to the shore and then moved into the jungle. The night was full of predators, many of whom preferred the coolness of the evening to conduct their hunts. Lions, leopards and cheetahs were the primary concerns for Wade and he kept his senses on alert as he plunged through the tall grasses.

Almost two miles from the riverbank, the underbrush began to thin and Wade spotted what appeared to be numerous paths that had been cleared. As he squinted into the darkness, he saw an area that had been converted into a landing strip � the trees had been removed and several runways had been carved into the earth. A single long-range biplane was currently parked there.

There was also a building there, illuminated by torches planted in the ground at the four points. Two men stood outside, dressed in loose native garb. They were Westerners, however, who had gone with local fashion simply to avoid the heat. Both men wore holsters.

Moving with the stealth of a jungle cat, Wade crept along the perimeter, keeping low to the ground. As he got closer, he heard the men conversing in German. Fluent in multiple languages, Wade was easily able to understand their words.

The taller of the two, a Nordic-looking chap with a nose that had obviously been broken years before, was saying, �No word from the group in the South Pacific.�

The other laughed hoarsely. �That�s according to plan, right? They weren�t meant to come home.�

The tall man shrugged. �Cambion should have radioed back confirmation that the job was done.�

�Think Thunder Jim managed to stop them?�

�Possible. They say he�s like a superman or something. I heard he was raised by monks in Tibet.�

�I heard it was a group of Atlanteans who trained him.�

�Neither of you are right,� Wade said, leaping from the shadows. He tackled the first man, delivering a powerful punch to the face as he did so. Then he whipped around to drive the other fellow�s head into the side of the building.

Wade dragged the men into the shadows, stripping both of their pistols, which joined his own in the waistband of his pants � two in the front and one in the back.

Ducking into the structure, Wade found himself faced with stone walls, dirt floors and the occasional wall-mounted torch. It was very quiet but Wade could hear muffled conversations within.

He quickly found that the corridors were arranged in a confusing manner and that the interior of the structure appeared somehow larger than it should. He passed numerous rooms and even stairs leading both up and down � despite the fact that the exterior had revealed the structure was only a one-story building.

Wade stopped in place, growing confused. This was an impossibility. He sniffed, wondering if there were hallucinogens being pumped into the air. If so, that could help explain the mad devotion that Leviathan�s followers possessed. They truly believed that their master was superhuman because they saw and heard things that had no rational explanation.

Of course, that didn�t help Wade at present. If he had breathed in some sort of gas, then he would be under its effects for some time.

The sound of grinding stone caused Wade to press himself tightly against the wall. He peered around the corner of the hallway, where he saw that the stone surface had opened, revealing a portal. No one emerged so he quietly approached, glancing inside.

He expected to come face to face with a horde of Leviathan�s followers but what he saw instead was a large chamber, illuminated by a brightly burning brazier. The walls were decorated in banners of crimson with gold trim. In the center of each banner was the black silhouette of a human head, though small horns adorned the skull, giving it a demonic appearance. Seated in the center of the room, just in front of the brazier, was a hooded figure. The figure was obviously male, despite the cloaks that hid its body, and its head was tilted downward.

�Hello, Mr. Wade,� the seated man said.

Wade strode into the room, glancing back only when the stone wall closed behind him. �You�re not an easy man to find.�

�Most men are simply not strong enough to survive the journey.� The cloaked man sat up straight, black-gloved hands rising to remove his hood. �I am Leviathan.�

For one of the few times in his life, Jim Wade found himself speechless.

Leviathan wore a gray suit and tie, small gloves and dark shoes. As he stood, Wade guessed him to be just short of six feet in height and of trim but athletic build. Leviathan wore a metallic black mask that covered his entire face, with only a small slit over the mouth and ovals for eyes.

Just as Wade was finding his voice once more, Leviathan spoke again. �I suppose it�s time for you and I to begin the requisite fight-to-the-death? Along the way, I�ll regale you with stories about my origins and motivations, perhaps even giving you enough clues to my master plan that you and your allies can later put a halt to it?�

Wade frowned. �I could not care less about who you really are. What I do want to know is how you found out about my island and why you�re trying to kill me.�

Leviathan laughed, the sound coming out strangely because of the helmet�s muffling effect. �That was simple. You�re familiar with Randall Herbert?�

Wade was. Herbert was a member of his network of operatives. Based primarily out of Paris, Herbert traveled frequently for business purposes, which made him doubly useful.

Leviathan shrugged. �He ran afoul of one of my plans and was captured. He was quite brave during all the questioning we put him through but in the end, he was only a man. He eventually tried to bargain with whatever he thought would save his life. Believe me, I know how that is. You�ll agree to things you�d have scoffed at, when the shadow of death is upon you. In his case, he revealed that he worked for you� and that he�d once been to your secret island base.�

�And after he told you all this, you did what?� Wade pressed, clenched his hands into fists.

�Oh, I killed him, of course.�

�You bastard. And then you attacked me for no reason at all?�

�Eventually, you would have become aware of me. I thought it best to strike first.�

Wade shook his head. Something was wrong. Leviathan was shimmering before his eyes, almost looking like he was splitting in two. He rubbed his forehead. �What have you done to me?�

Leviathan was suddenly right in front of him. Gone was the form of a man in a suit and mask. Now he looked� different: Like a swirling bundle of energy bound up in a human frame. �You know what I�ve done to you. You�ve been walking closer and closer to the precipice ever since you entered my home.� The energy-thing that wasn�t a man pointed to the brazier. �And now you�re breathing in a particularly potent mixture of peyote and a few drugs of my own devising.�

Wade fought to maintain his grip on reality, aware of just how dangerous it would be to be at the mercy of a man like this. �I�m� going to� stop you.�

Leviathan, who now looked just like Thunder Jim Wade, smiled. �No. You�re not.�

Wade tumbled backward, landing hard on the ground. The world grew dark and he thought he heard a familiar voice, speaking to him from beyond the grave.

�Good night,� Leviathan said, only it sounded like Jim Wade�s father. �When you wake up� all will be well.�

Matthew Garrity sipped his tea and enjoyed the silence of his Salem home. It was the wee hours of the morning and almost everyone in the city was asleep. The only sounds to be heard were the occasional bark of a dog and the soft tick-tock of the grandfather clock that stood in the hall.

Garrity was seated in his study, a leather-bound edition of Charles Dickens� Bleak House, open on his lap. It was widely regarded as the author�s most complex work, with a vast array of characters and subplots. Garrity had read it numerous times over the years, always finding something new in its pages.

At a little past seventy years of age, Garrity was well aware that he might not live to read it through from start-to-finish again. His health was beginning to wane, his eyesight was failing and on some mornings, there was a tremble in his hands that made work difficult.

He remained a fine-looking man, though his face was now lined with wrinkles. Silver hair was swept back from a regal forehead and he wore an expensive robe with Persian slippers. He had women that he saw from time to time but none were with him this evening. In truth, he didn�t like it when his lovers spent the night � it implied a depth to the relationship that didn�t truly exist.

Garrity set aside his book as an odd sound reached his ears. It was coming from the front foyer and it didn�t take much to recognize the familiar click and following creak: someone had unlocked the front door and was now slowly opening it � in a failed attempt at stealth.

Rising carefully, Garrity moved toward a nearby bookshelf and pulled down a specific volume. He flipped it open to reveal a false bottom and a pistol hidden within. He checked to make sure it was loaded and then began to move toward the hallway. When he reached the front door, he found that it was standing open, with no one in sight.

Garrity glanced at the grandfather clock. It was far too early for his maid to have come in and she never would have been sloppy enough to leave the door ajar, even if it wasn�t.

�I like your slippers.�

Garrity froze, hearing a woman�s voice from over his shoulder. He whirled about, finger poised on the trigger, and came nose-to-barrel with Morgan�s revolver. Samantha stood at his side, a smirk on her pretty little face.

�I know you two,� Garrity said, eyes narrowing. �Didn�t realize that Assistance Unlimited was into breaking and entering now.�

�You�d be surprised at what we can do when the case calls for it,� Morgan answered. He looked cool and debonair in his suit and tie, his moustache and hair perfectly coiffed. �Now hand your gun over to my lady friend here.�

Samantha took the pistol and gestured toward Garrity�s footwear. �I really do like the shoes. Expensive.�

�Thank you, my dear. I�ll see that a pair is sent to your prison cell. You do realize that you�re going to end up in jail over this, don�t you? Your parents will be so proud.�

Lazarus entered from another doorway, one that led into Garrity�s kitchen area. Eun was with him, munching on an apple that he�d plucked up off the dining room table.

�Leviathan,� Lazarus said without preamble. �Tell us about him.�

Garrity stared at him for a moment before throwing his head back and laughing. �That�s hilarious � You asking me about Leviathan.�

�Why is that so funny?� Eun asked around a mouthful of apple.

�Because your employer here is an expert on Leviathan. But I guess he doesn�t know that yet, does he?� Garrity exhaled slowly, looking smug. �I will tell you nothing about Leviathan. To do so would be to court death.�

Morgan pressed the barrel of his gun against the side of Garrity�s head. �I�d say death is a hell of a lot closer right now than it would be from Leviathan.�

�Leviathan�s reach is greater than you might think,� Garrity said. The old man moved with surprising speed, twisting around to grab hold of Morgan�s wrist. In the struggle, the gun went off, a bullet narrowly missing Samantha as it crashed into the staircase.

Morgan grunted as he was shoved into the wall. Garrity was spinning about, blocking a blow from Eun, who had tossed his apple aside. The elderly man was a skilled combatant but against Eun, he was facing one of the greatest martial artists the world had ever known. The young Korean pressed the attack, peppering Garrity�s midsection with punches that left his opponent gasping.

Garrity tried to back away toward the still-open door but he bumped into Lazarus. Gray wrapped his arms around the man�s head and neck, applying enough pressure that the flailing old man finally succumbed to lack of oxygen.

Lazarus let the fellow fall to the floor. �Let�s lock this place up before any of the neighbors get suspicious.�

�What are we going to do with him?� Eun asked, nudging Garrity�s unconscious form with the tip of his toe.

�I�m not done with him yet,� Lazarus answered.

Garrity woke up to find that his hands were bound behind his back and that he was seated in his kitchen. A bright reading lamp had been brought close, its beam directed straight into his eyes. He squinted, recognizing the silhouettes of Assistance Unlimited. �This isn�t your wisest course of action, Lazarus,� he warned.

Lazarus moved into view, a syringe held in his right hand. A clear fluid dripped from the needle�s tip. �You can answer my questions of your own free will� or I can give you something to help relax your tongue.�

Garrity flinched. �You can�t use that on me. Sodium pentothal weakens the heart. You could kill me.�

�I�m prepared to take that chance.�

�You�re not like this. You don�t kill unless you have to�.�

�My home was invaded by agents of Leviathan. You made it sound as if he�s someone I should know. That means that I�m at risk until he�s caught and so are my friends. So I have to do whatever it takes.�

After a moment�s hesitation, Garrity began speaking. �I only know stories. Maybe they�re true, maybe they�re not. But from what I�ve heard, Leviathan is actually Walther Lunt. He was the man who invited you into The Illuminati, wasn�t he?�

Lazarus said nothing but his mind was whirring like a well-oiled machine. Lunt had, indeed, been his mentor at one time. But he�d become a terrible enemy when Lazarus Gray � then known as Richard Winthrop � had turned against the secret society. Lunt had died and then been resurrected but during the Die Glocke affair, it had appeared that his threat had been silenced forever. �Go on,� he prompted.

Garrity�s face took on an expression of distaste. �I never liked him, you know. Everyone associated with The Illuminati wanted power and money but there was something different about Lunt. It was like he wanted power� so he could fuel his sickness. He needed to be able to assuage his hungers, no matter how disgusting they were.�

�Do you have any evidence that Lunt might be Leviathan?� Lazarus asked. �Or is it all hearsay?�

�I�ve only met Leviathan once � all of my other dealings with him have been through intermediaries and all of them have been since you gutted The Illuminati. A lot of us went into deep cover but we maintain contacts � Leviathan implied that he�d used Illuminati methods to find me. He knows who you really are, too, and hardly anyone outside of The Illuminati knows that.�

�It would explain why he�s launched an attack on you,� Morgan said from the side.

Lazarus silenced him with a quick look before moving in closer to Garrity. �So no genuine proof?�

�No,� the older man admitted. �But it seems likely to me.� He narrowed his eyes. �But you seem convinced it�s not.�

�Walther Lunt is dead.�

�The Illuminati can-�

�I know about their resurrection techniques!� Lazarus snapped. �But it didn�t happen this time. He was killed by a creature named Jack-In-Irons. His body was splintered into a dozen pieces.�

Garrity shrugged. �Death is not always the end for men like Lunt.�

Lazarus pushed the needle into Garrity�s neck, causing the man�s eyes to open wide in surprise. His head slumped forward, mouth hanging slack.

�He�ll wake up in about four hours,� Lazarus said. �In the meantime, let�s look around and see if we find anything of interest. We�ll clean up and remove any prints before we go.�

As Morgan and Eun jumped to their tasks, Samantha lingered behind. Always the most sensitive of the team, she could tell that Lazarus was more on edge than usual. �Do you think Lunt really could be involved in this?�

�No. He�s dead. I�m sure of that. But Garrity might be on to something. I think it�s very possible that Leviathan is someone from the higher echelon of The Illuminati. Whoever it is was probably running a side game during the secret society�s heyday but once we put a dent into the group�s livelihood, they slid into being Leviathan full-time.�

�Hey, Chief!� Eun hurried over, holding a folder in his hand. He passed it to Lazarus and said, �There�s notes in there about �current targets� � and it includes information not just on you but on some other guy, too.�

Lazarus lifted out a photograph of a dark-haired man with a youthful face and piercing eyes. Scrawled underneath the picture was the man�s name and Lazarus read it aloud, eyes narrowing as he did so: �Thunder Jim Wade.�

Red Argyle was feeling increasingly nervous. He and Dirk had arrived in Egypt about six hours ago, making their way to the hotel where Wade had been staying with great haste. Unfortunately, their friend had already checked out. He had left behind a small note asking them to check in on Josef to make sure he was safe.

Josef had been dead for nearly three hours by the time they tracked him down. Someone had bludgeoned him in an alley, not bothering to steal the large amount of American cash he�d been carrying.

Thankfully, Josef was a man who kept meticulous notes. Alongside the money, there had been a small notebook filled with details about his recent activities. Included was a reference to his meeting with Wade and the directions he had given him.

And now they were standing on the riverbank, looking down at the Thunderbug. �How long do you think it�s been here?� Red asked, wiping sweat off his brow.

�Not sure.� Dirk leaned out and held his hands over the amazing vehicle. �The engine�s cold. Given that the hotel clerk said he checked out not long before we arrived� we can�t be too far behind him.�

Red looked around. Dawn was still a few hours away and the jungle was alive with activity. �This gives me the creeps.�

Dirk stood up, studying his friend. �Why? We�ve been in the jungle before.�

�It�s not that. It�s this whole Leviathan thing. What�s his angle?�

�He�s a crook. He wants the usual � money, women, the world. Doesn�t matter.�

�All this death, though.� Red let out a long sigh. �People throwing themselves onto train tracks and committing suicide when they�re captured. It�s not like our usual enemies.�

�Yeah, well, you�re right about that.� Dirk began following Wade�s trail. �C�mon. Josef�s notes said that Leviathan�s base is this way.�

The two men were not Wade�s equal in stealth but they still managed to attract no attention as they came upon Leviathan�s lair. Unlike before, there were no guards on duty outside.

�It�s quiet,� Dirk muttered.

�Too quiet,� Red agreed.

Dirk drew out his favorite knife and cautiously led the way, Red at his heels. When they reached what appeared to be the only entrance, the two men nodded at each other and moved inside.

�Something smells funny,� Red whispered.

Dirk paused but detected nothing. �Your schnozzle is more finely tuned than mine. We better not take any chances.�

Both men retrieved small plastic-like substances from their pockets. The clear material unfolded to become one of Wade�s inventions: gas masks that could fit over the nose and mouth without restricting their ability to speak. The duo didn�t always carry the material with them but given the uncertainty of what they were going to be facing, it had been Dirk�s idea to bring them along.

Once the material was smoothed out and in place, the duo continued along the passageways, marveling at how strange the place seemed to be � halls ended in dead ends, some walls were covered in strange symbols that neither could recognize and there appeared to be a series of false stairs built into the ground.

�It�s like some weird carnival funhouse,� Red said.

�Yeah. You know, if there are drugs in the air like you thought, this kinda stuff would be scary.�

Red placed a hand on Dirk�s shoulder. He gestured down the hallway, where a section of the wall was beginning to slide out of place with a loud grinding sound.

Thunder Jim Wade emerged from the room, dressed in a loose-fitting black shirt and pants. He turned to look at his old friends and nodded once, before spinning about and stepping back into the room.

Dirk and Red hurriedly joined Wade, though they came up short when they saw the interior of the room. The brightly burning brazier cast the room in strange shadows. Two dozen men and women sat lotus style on the floor, half on each side of the room. A hooded figure stood beside Wade, just in front of the brazier.

�Jim?� Red asked, starting to step forward. Dirk gave him a warning look and both men jumped as the wall slid shut behind them.

�I am Leviathan,� the hooded man said. �Welcome to my home. You may recognize my newest acolyte.�

�You piece of trash!� Dirk exclaimed. �What have you done to him?�

Leviathan paused before answering. �I commend the two of you for your quick thinking regarding the masks you�re wearing. They�ve spared you the same fate that has affected Thunder Jim Wade. He is now my slave, in all things.�

�You�re lying!� Red said. �There�s no way you could overpower Jim!�

Leviathan�s laugh was mocking. �Kill them,� he ordered, shoving Wade on the shoulder.

Jim Wade surged forward, like a wave slamming into a rocky shore. He rushed toward his friends, an animalistic roar escaping from his lips.

Dirk jumped to one side, avoiding the collision, but Red wasn�t as lucky. Wade slammed into him, lifting the big man off his feet, and drove him into the rock wall. The followers of Leviathan watched in obvious interest, their drug-glazed eyes viewing the fight through a distorted lens.

Red was trying to free himself from Wade�s embrace but he was being pummeled by body shots. A few flecks of red began to stain his lips and Dirk knew that if he didn�t do something immediately, Wade was going to kill his friend.

�Pal! Don�t do this!�

When Wade didn�t cease his attack, Dirk had no choice but to drive his knife into the big man�s side. He was skilled enough with the blade to make sure that it didn�t cut through anything vital.

It was, however, more than enough to get Wade�s attention. He tossed Red aside and turned on Dirk, throwing a powerful punch at Dirk�s head. The smaller man ducked under it, striking out with the knife once more. He left a scarlet trail along Wade�s belly � a flesh wound that he hoped would clear his friend�s mind.

�Jim! It�s me,� Dirk gasped, dancing back as Wade lunged for him again. Normally, he didn�t know if he would stand a chance against the man � but Wade�s movements were slightly off, as if the drugs were slowing him down, or perhaps he was subtly resisting Leviathan�s command.

Red, still in grave pain, threw himself onto Wade�s back. Dirk knew he had a clear shot to kill Jim if he chose to take it but of course he didn�t. Instead, he tried to lock eyes with Wade as Red struggled to hold him in place.

�Jim, please! You know me! The three of us are as close as brothers! Don�t let this criminal destroy that!�

Wade growled but the tone of it abruptly changed, becoming more like a whine. He closed his eyes tightly. �Yes� I know you�.�

�Kill them!� Leviathan barked, sensing that things were no longer going the way he had hoped.

Wade cried out, the mental strain beginning to cause him pain. He was no longer fighting against Red. Instead, he was moving his lips soundlessly, reciting a mantra taught to him as a child. It was a meditative technique, one that would have spared him Leviathan�s control, had he not already been cloudy in the mind. But now, given strength by the proximity of Red and Dirk, he was calling upon those long-lost Cretan techniques.

A long, throaty yell emanated from Wade. It was the sound of a man breaking free of heavy chains, at the cost of great mental and physical effort.

Red released him, both he and Dirk remaining on guard. But when Wade opened his eyes again, the malice contained therein was aimed at one man and one man only: Leviathan!

The three men all looked over at the hooded figure simultaneously. Leviathan remained standing where he was but there was no fear in his body language.

�You are every bit the formidable adversary that I had hoped,� the vile madman declared. �When next we meet, I shall have to take unusual precautions against you.�

Leviathan reached back and pushed at the brazier. The action opened the floor beneath his feet and the villain vanished down a hidden tunnel.

On cue, the men and women who followed Leviathan rose to their feet, angry murmurings begin to issue forth from them.

�Boys, I hate to ask you to do this,� Wade began.

Red grinned, showing a bloody mouth. �Go after him, buddy. We�ve got this!�

Wade gave a quick nod and bolted toward the hole in the floor. He threw himself down into the tunnel without a second�s hesitation. The thought of leaving his two best friends to face two dozen hardened criminals was a difficult one but he knew they were capable of handling the situation � they�d been in tougher situations over the years.

The tunnel led toward the airfield and Wade unleashed a series of curses. He was as fast as any Olympic sprinter but Leviathan had the advantage of a head start and familiarity with the terrain.

Through the twisting corridor, he ran, finally stopping when he saw moonlight up ahead. A ladder ran up to a hatch in the ground, one that had been hidden from above. Wade grabbed hold of the rungs of the ladder and yanked himself up, emerging just in time to see Leviathan in the cockpit of the plane, starting the propeller.

Realizing that losing Leviathan now might cost him any chance of feeling safe again, Wade hustled toward the plane, just as it began to make its slow trek down the runway.

Throwing himself forward, Wade slammed into the left wing, pulling himself up even as the plane bounced along, gaining speed for its takeoff.

Leviathan turned his hood toward Wade. �Let go, you fool! You�ll kill us both!�

Wade lunged for Leviathan, driving a fist into the side of the man�s head. The plane�s wheels left the ground as the villain yanked back on the stick but the plane began to wobble out of control as Wade grabbed for the controls.

They struggled for mastery of the plane, even as the aircraft soared just over the trees, the landing gear scraping across the branches.

�I�m not letting you get away!� Wade shouted.

�You cannot stop me! You have no idea of the forces I command!� He turned to Wade and the hood fell back, revealing his true face. At first he looked normal enough but then wet tentacles began to emerge from within his mouth, stretching toward Wade.

Thunder Jim stared in shock for a moment before deciding that the drugs in his system were still playing havoc with his perception.

Wade suddenly grinned, an almost mad glint in his eyes. �Then command this!� He gripped the stick with both hands and pulled, breaking it off in one piece. Leviathan gasped in shock as Wade tossed it to the winds.

Without another word, Wade threw himself from the plane. He had no parachute and was easily a hundred feet up but he knew how to angle his fall � particularly when he�d made certain that the river was below. He crashed into the chilly waters, his main fear being that he would pass out upon impact and become a feast for the crocodiles.

Not all that far away, he heard a shout of disgusted rage, followed by the crashing of the plane. Just as he hit the water, the ground rattled with the resulting explosion.

�According to legend, Leviathan was one of the seven princes of hell and the gatekeeper of the Hellmouth. Several of this criminal�s followers are adamant that the Hellmouth was quite literal in this case � that there was a portal to Hell through the lips of this man. Demonic forces oozed out like words from a carnival barker.�

Jim Wade sipped his whiskey and took another drag on his cigarette. He was back at his island retreat, with the men he trusted above all. Red and Dirk were half-soused already but they weren�t so drunk that they were willing to believe in spooks.

�He must have had a parachute,� Red said with certainty. �That�s why we didn�t find his body.�

�We didn�t find the parachute, either,� Dirk pointed out. He poured himself another glass. �If he�s still out there, this island isn�t safe.�

Wade smiled grimly. �I thought about that. But I don�t want to move. For one thing, it�s our home. For another, if we move to a more secure location, then we lose out on a tremendous opportunity.�

�What do you mean?�

�Stay here� and we might draw him out. We give him a target that eventually he won�t be able to say no to.�

Red shook his head. �You�re insane, amigo.� He grinned as he said it.

�Maybe� but it�s a crazy world.�

�You�ve got that right,� Dirk muttered. He stood up and wandered over to the window. The seas were calm and the sun was setting low in the sky, casting the water in orange and gold.

For a brief moment, the waters seemed to churn, like some monster from the depths was about to rise up � perhaps the many-tentacled Leviathan of legend. Dirk tensed but then the movement subsided, leaving nothing but foamy bubbles in its wake.

�Who wants another drink?� Wade asked, opening another bottle.

Dirk turned away from the window, smiling broadly. �Make mine a double.�

The three men continued their carousing for nearly another hour before the radio squawked, indicating that someone was trying to reach them on one of their secure channels. �I�ll get it,� Wade said, standing up with only a trace of unsteadiness. Both Red and Dirk were three sheets to the wind, having long since lost all sense of decorum. They were currently exchanging salty limericks picked up during their travels.

Wade picked up the headset and slipped it on, fiddling with the controls until the signal was clear. �Thunder Jim Wade here. Who�s this?�

�My name is Lazarus Gray. I�m leader of Assistance Unlimited, based out of Sovereign City.�

�I�ve heard of you. How did you get ahold of this frequency?�

�We have a mutual enemy: a man known as Leviathan. I came across some information about you while trying to bring him down.�

�You�re too late, my friend. Leviathan has been dealt with. A plane he was flying crashed earlier today in Africa.�

�Did you find a body?�

Wade frowned, hearing Lazarus give voice to the same doubt that had been plaguing him ever since his return. �No. But I don�t see how he could have survived.�

�He may be more than you imagine.�

�He�s not a spook!� Wade hissed, bringing his friends out of drunken reverie. They watched him now, eyes narrowed in concern. �He�s a man. He uses drugs and gases to make people believe in his supernatural nonsense.�

�Be that as it may, we need to talk about this. Do we have permission to land?�

Wade paused, letting that sink in. Then he was yanking off the handset and flying outside. He looked up into the cloudy sky and saw a small passenger plane circling overhead. �Damn it,� he whispered, aware that Red and Dirk had joined him. �This place is getting to be Grand Central Station!�

�Nice place,� Eun muttered as Lazarus piloted the craft to a smooth landing near Wade�s headquarters. �When are we going to move into an island base of our own?�

�When Sovereign City no longer needs us,� Lazarus answered.

�Ah, they�ve got Doc Daye and Fortune McCall,� Eun countered, but he did so jokingly. Though both Daye and McCall � and their various aides � were great men, Assistance Unlimited filled a niche that no one else did. They were challengers of the unknown, delving into the supernatural in ways that few others could.

When the ramp was lowered, Lazarus led the group off the plane. Wade and his companions, all of whom looked unsteady on their feet, met them.

�Welcome to Thunder Island,� Wade said, offering a hand to Lazarus. The two men shook and in that moment, every one of their aides was struck by a powerful sense of importance. Even through the haze of alcohol that surrounded Red and Dirk�s minds, they recognized that these powerful heroes could come together to form a union that the criminal world had never seen before.

�Did we come at a bad time?� Lazarus asked, wrinkling his nose at the smell wafting from Wade.

�We were just celebrating our victory over Leviathan.�

�Sorry to rain on your parade.�

�Don�t worry about it.� Wade gestured to his companions. �Dirk Marat and Red Argyle, the two best friends a man could ever ask for.�

Dirk grinned and drunkenly offered a salute. �We love you, too.�

Lazarus nodded toward the other members of Assistance Unlimited and introduced them, taking special note of the way Dirk�s eyes lit up when he saw Samantha. He hoped that the man�s inebriation wouldn�t lead him into any embarrassing actions.

�Can we go inside and talk?� Lazarus asked.

�Certainly! And if you and your friends are tired, we have some spare rooms��

�We might take you up on that,� Morgan said, moving closer. �I don�t know about anybody else, but I�m beat.�

�That kind of thing happens when you�re of a certain age,� Eun teased. He laughed loudly at the expression of indignation that washed over his friend�s face. Morgan looked even more put out when Red and Dirk joined in.

Red patted Eun on the back, saying, �You seem like a funny guy.�

Morgan mumbled under his breath. �Most people think he�s grumpy as hell, actually.�

Cups of coffee and warm tea were provided in the main meeting room, as talk of bed was put aside in favor of exchanging information. Wade went first, detailing the attacks on the island and his men, followed by his confrontation with Leviathan in Egypt.

When it was Gray�s turn, he recounted the stories he�d heard during his days with The Illuminati and then talked at length about what they�d learned from Garrity.

�What makes you think he didn�t die when Thunder Jim fought him?� Dirk asked. He was sitting next to Samantha and had been actively flirting with her while their leaders conversed. She seemed lukewarm to his attentions but wasn�t discouraging them, either.

�I think he�s too smart to allow himself to fall into an easy death. In fact, I�m not 100�% sure that the man you fought was actually Leviathan at all. His use of hallucinogens and fakery implies that he might have standins to minimize the danger to himself.�

�That�s all just guesswork,� Wade countered. �You haven�t shown me any proof at all to make me think he�s still alive.�

�You couldn�t find a body,� Samantha pointed out.

�Doesn�t mean he�s still out there, plotting against us.�

Lazarus reached into a pocket and pulled out a slip of paper. �Garrity told me this is the number he used to relay information back to Leviathan. I tried it before coming here. A man answered and told Garrity to call back later, that there had been some severe setbacks to their plans. I think that was a reference to your victory in Egypt.�

�Still�.�

�And I recognized the man who answered that line,� Lazarus added, lowering the register of his voice. �Garrity was right that Leviathan is someone high up in The Illuminati � but he was wrong about Lunt. Lunt wasn�t even on the inner council, though he badly wanted to be.�

Wade clenched his jaw. �Okay. You�ve got me curious. Who�s Leviathan, then?�

�Leviathan�s true name is Anthony Mobius[7]� and up until I brought The Illuminati to its knees, he was that group�s lord and master.�

Anthony Mobius was a gaunt man with a hairless skull and dark-ringed eyes. Adding to his unpleasant appearance, he possessed yellowed teeth and the perpetual stench of cigarette smoke. Despite all of that, he was possessed of a magnetic personality that made people gravitate to him� in fact, he was able to bind them completely to his will, using the additional tools of drugs and a flair for the supernatural to ensure their loyalty.

He sat now before a mirror, slowly peeling away the clothing that had burned itself to his skin. His metallic mask lay on a table beside him, its dented surface gleaming in the lights of his bedroom. If he had wished it, a dozen or more attendants would be at his beck and call, soothing all of his wounds. He had sent them all away, however, because at the moment he wanted solitude.

Launching twin offensives against Thunder Jim Wade and Lazarus Gray had been audacious but he�d felt confident that he could wipe them both from the game board. Unfortunately, both had proved far more deadly than he�d anticipated.

Mobius had risen through the ranks of The Illuminati, displaying a charming persona and a cold-blooded ability to dispatch his enemies. But he had always known the importance of maintaining an empire outside of the shadowy secret society: chairmen had been targeted for assassination throughout the group�s history and he�d always known that he might need to sneak away into the dim recesses of the world.

The story of Leviathan had been floating about for years before Mobius had seized hold of it. Whether or not it had ever been based in fact was something that not even Mobius knew for sure. It had worked perfectly, however, as Mobius had expanded the idea of Leviathan into something even greater than the original myth. Hallucinogenic drugs, combined with the occult powers Mobius had mastered, allowed him to amass a huge fortune.

And thanks to Richard Winthrop � or, as he liked to call himself now, Lazarus Gray � the Leviathan identity had become a vital necessity. Assistance Unlimited had uncovered a cache of information from one of The Illuminati�s Parisian bases[8] and had used it to begin a series of strikes at Mobius and his allies. Within a year, The Illuminati had been broken into dozens of small factions, all squabbling for power. Mobius had vanished into the gloom, allowing others to pick at the carcass of the once-proud cult.

Mobius had lost himself in the role of Leviathan. It had been good for a time but eventually Mobius realized that he was delaying the inevitable. Men like Lazarus Gray and Thunder Jim Wade would find out about him and they�d come with guns blazing.

His plan to begin systematically eliminating his enemies had seemed so perfect in the planning phase but the execution had gone horribly awry. He hadn�t counted on facing either of them directly so soon and Thunder Jim Wade had nearly killed him. He�d escaped a fiery death only by throwing himself from the plane at the last second.

A rather dangerous planes-walking spell had allowed him to escape into a small corner of Hades, from which he�d emerged into his home in Berlin.

�You�re playing a dangerous game, Leviathan.�

Mobius gritted his teeth in annoyance. Without turning from the mirror, he replied, �I thought I locked the door.�

The young woman who moved to his side had shoulder-length red hair and freckles. Her cupid-bow lips and wide eyes gave her an innocent appearance that didn�t suit her nature at all. Wearing a tight-fitting emerald dress, she was like some male fantasy come to life. Her name was Alexa Kincaid and she was the closest thing to a confidante that Leviathan possessed. �You look like hell.�

�The door?� he prompted.

�You locked it. I picked it.�

Mobius stood up and finished stripping out of his garments. His body was cracked and bleeding but he ignored the pain as he stepped into the bathroom and began running a bath. When the water was sufficiently warmed, he sat down in the tub and grimaced as his burned flesh sank beneath the waterline.

Alexa stood watching him from the doorway. When he finally opened his eyes and looked at her, he saw that she wore an infuriating smirk. �Go ahead,� he hissed. �Tell me what you�re thinking.�

�I�m thinking that if you�re serious about surviving as Leviathan, it�s time to stop just playing the part. It�s time to take the next step.� She sauntered into the room, crouching alongside the tub. �Thunder Jim Wade � alone � nearly killed you. How are you going to fare when he comes back, with both his aides and the members of Assistance Unlimited?�

�No one else would dare speak to me the way you do,� Mobius said. �I�ve had men killed for much less.�

Alexa�s impish smile grew wider. �You can�t kill me.�

Mobius stared at her for a moment, his emotions twisted into knots. He had never taken this woman to his bed and probably never would, but he desired her in a way that he�d never felt before. But he was simultaneously revolted and disturbed.

�I remember the night you came into my life,� he whispered. �I don�t think I�ll ever forget it.�

Alexa reached out and brushed the hair from his forehead. �I wasn�t what you were expecting, was I?�

�No. No, you weren�t.� Mobius had been desperate for something to hold onto. The Illuminati had been in disarray and he�d been reluctant at the time to admit that it was time to go, to dive into the shadows and recreate himself. One night, in a fit of drunken stupor, he�d drawn a pentagram on the floor of his apartment and performed a summoning spell. He�d had no real idea of who he hoped would answer his call but when the candles in his room had gone dark and a foul odor had assaulted his nostrils, he�d felt genuine fear and realized his mistake: One didn�t go casting about randomly in the realms of the spirit.

He�d heard something moving in the darkness, skittering about like some massive spider. And then, on the edge of the pentagram, he�d seen her: Alexa, nude and dripping wet. Her supple skin was covered with flecks here and there of some sort of gelatinous substance that frightened him, despite him not knowing what it truly was.

She�d smiled at him then, much as she was smiling now. �Hello, man of Earth,� she had said. �I am here to give you counsel.�

It was that easy. He�d stepped out and embraced her, her body cold in his grasp. She�d aided him ever since, telling him the things that he needed to hear, whether or not he wanted to. Always, she remained aloof from him, however, never letting him touch her in any kind of intimate fashion. The closest to sex they�d come had been that first embrace� which Mobius knew had sealed some sort of awful pact between them. He refused to ask what she would eventually want in return for her assistance.

Forcing himself to focus on the present, Mobius stood up and accepted a towel that Alex fetched for him. He gingerly toweled off his wounds and asked, �What did you mean by its time for the next step?�

�You play with being a powerful, demonic figure, but you�re not. 99�% of everything you do is trickery or minor magic that you�re drumming up as more than it is. But I can help you achieve your full potential.�

�How?�

Alexa leaned close, her lips almost brushing against his ear as she whispered, �Let me take you on a little trip. I promise that when it�s over, you�ll be everything you�ve ever claimed to be. Power, immortality and more will be yours to call upon.�

�I have to confess, Alexa� that you frighten me at times.�

�That�s because you�re human. Fear is something that�s innate to mortals. It comes with your short lifespan. Every moment, every second for you is fraught with peril. Miss even a few breaths and your body begins to seize up, adrenaline starts to flow. So much of your existence is wrapped up in the nuances of simply living and not giving in to the ever-present threat of death. I can free you from that.�

Mobius stared into her eyes and he felt a stirring in his loins, as he always did when their proximity was so close. He leaned in to kiss her, lips already parted, but she put a finger up, pressing it hard against his mouth.

�Not yet,� she said with a teasing tone. �I know what you want and I�ll give it to you� but not while you�re like this. Humans are disgusting.�

�If we�re so horrible, then why are you here? You could have left this dimensional plane and gone back to your home, wherever that is.�

�I think you have potential.� Alexa moved away from him. �If you�re tired of confronting your limitations, get dressed and come with me.�

Mobius watched her leave, wondering what he should do. After a moment, he realized there was no choice but to do as she wished. Wade and Gray would be coming for him and they would eventually find his base, no matter where he chose to hide.

He strode to the closet, where a fresh suit and an undented mask were waiting. It was time for the lie that was Leviathan to become real.

Dawn on Thunder Island brought sobriety and painful hangovers. Red Argyle stumbled into the kitchen, clad in a frayed robe that was comfortable but not entirely presentable for company. Nevertheless, he proudly greeted Samantha Grace when she entered the room. She looked fresh as a daisy and Red unleashed his most charming smile in the hopes of stealing her gaze away from the robe.

�Can I make you some eggs?�

�That would be nice,� she said, hopping up on one of the barstools that lined a small bar. �How long have you worked with Mr. Wade?�

�Don�t call him that.� Red laughed. �He�s Jim or Thunder Jim.�

Samantha smiled. �Very well. How long have you worked with Jim?�

�Sometimes it feels like forever,� Red said, avoiding the specifics of her question. He grabbed a couple of eggs and cracked them open. �He and Dirk are like my brothers. I�d die for either one of them.�

�I feel the same way about my friends.�

Red glanced over at her. �Is it weird being the only girl in the group?�

�Not really. The boys were a bit overprotective at first but I�ve proved myself. We had another woman on the team for a little while, actually. But she�s� we don�t know where she is, to be honest.�

�I�m sorry,� Red said and the sincerity in his voice made Samantha smile. He blushed in response and looked away. Dirk was the one who was good with the ladies, though Thunder Jim wasn�t too bad, either. Red always felt a little too big for his own body, like he was a clumsy ox locked in the china shop that was romance.

Red had just begun scrambling the eggs when Lazarus Gray came down the hall. He was wearing the grim mask of determination that Red was already beginning to associate with him.

�Eat quickly,� Lazarus said to both of them. �I�ve already talked to Thunder Jim and we�re going to be leaving in half an hour.�

�Where are we going?� Samantha asked.

�We have a lead on Leviathan. If we�re lucky, we�re going to put an end to this.�

Less than an hour later, the entire forces of Thunder Jim Wade�s operation and Assistance Unlimited were crammed into the confines of The Thunderbug, which was soaring toward Europe. Lazarus Gray had stared at the marvelous craft in astonishment before boarding. He had inquired about its design but Wade had been evasive, obviously preferring to keep its secrets to himself.

The fascination with the aircraft had faded quickly, however, as details about the group�s mission had been divulged.

Morgan adjusted his tie and cleared his throat. As the oldest member of Assistance Unlimited, he frequently found himself being the spokesperson for Eun and Samantha. �Chief, can I be Frank for a second?�

Lazarus gave a quick nod.

�This is insane!� Morgan blurted out. �Going into Berlin � into the heart of the Nazi movement?! We have too many enemies over there!�

�I share your concern,� Lazarus replied, his even tone betraying no such hesitation. �But if I�m right and this is Anthony Mobius that we�re facing, then he could be in one of two places in Berlin. He owns a home there and then there�s also the abandoned remains of The Illuminati. Once we�re in the city, we�ll split into two groups and examine each for clues. With luck, we�ll find him in one of those locations. If not we still might find useful information.�

Samantha spoke up then. She was sitting with her legs crossed and her gloved hands folded atop them. She looked like she could have attending a society function, rather than discussing a life-or-death mission. �You boys see the newswire before we left?�

�Didn�t get a chance to look at it,� Morgan answered. �Big news?�

�Hitler gave a speech to the Reichstag last night. He withdrew the German signature from the Treaty of Versailles[9].�

�He�s a lunatic,� Morgan said with a shake of his head. �How can anybody support him?�

�You remember what Jakob used to tell us,� Samantha said, referencing another of the team�s missing members. �He said that Hitler restored the German people�s pride. He gave work to the unemployed. People there were so desperate for hope that they�re willing to overlook a lot.�

�And some of them share his views,� Eun said, the expression on his face making it clear what he thought about The Third Reich in general.

�All that�s well and good but how are we going to get past the German authorities?� Dirk asked. �It�s not just you guys who�ve crossed paths with Nazis. Thunder Jim put a stop to one of their schemes just last fall. They�re scouring the globe, looking for occult artifacts.�

Jim Wade shouted back from the cockpit. �The Thunderbug will get us into the city, don�t worry. Once we�re in, it�s just a matter of not drawing too much attention to ourselves.�

Morgan grunted. �Yeah, we�re a bunch of wallflowers, this crew.� Glancing at Dirk, he said, �I don�t know about you guys, but we�ve never gone anywhere without somebody shooting at us and things getting blown up.�

�Same here,� Dirk added with a chuckle. He leaned forward, running a hand through his blond hair. �Say, Samantha, wanna make sure we�re in the same group once we set down in Berlin? I think we�d work well together.�

Samantha smiled, looking past him to Red, who was staring out the window. �I was thinking I should pair up with Red, actually.�

Red turned quickly and it was hard to tell who wore a more shocked expression: Red or Dirk. Samantha turned away so they wouldn�t see her stifling a laugh.

Morgan, very familiar with both the allure of Samantha and the frustration of the resulting chase, silently wished the best to the two men � they were going to need it.

True to Thunder Jim Wade�s word, The Thunderbug was able to set down within the city limits of Berlin, seemingly without detection. The strange vessel landed in a clearing located within a park, having hidden its arrival behind a cloud of smoke. Wade further disguised the ship by retracting its wings and draping a camouflage sheet over the roof.

�Here�s the plan, boys,� Thunder Jim Wade said, standing next to the ship and looking up into the cloudy skies over Berlin. �And lady, of course,� he amended, giving a country boy smile that soothed any hurt feelings that Samantha might have suffered. One of us needs to stay here with The Thunderbug � if it�s found, they need to take it airborne. No flight knowledge is needed since there�s an autopilot setting that will take it straight up and circle in the clouds until it receives a signal from me. Any volunteers for watch duty?�

Wade felt a swell of pride for all the people standing in front of him. No one wanted to be left behind � they all wanted to be at the forefront of danger. �Okay, then. We�ll draw straws unless someone has a better idea.�

Lazarus cleared his throat. �Morgan, I think it would be best if you stayed with the ship.�

Morgan blinked in surprise. �Listen, Lazarus, if it�s because of the way I mouthed off back on the ship, I-�

�There�s four of us in Assistance Unlimited and three from Wade�s group. It makes sense for one of us to remain with the ship. Eun�s fighting skills might be very useful and Samantha has a way of defusing situations if something goes awry-�

�She has a way of blowing people�s heads off!� Morgan protested.

Lazarus stepped closer and lowered his voice. �You�ve suffered several injuries over the last year that have left you more easily winded than before.� He patted Morgan�s shoulder. �Besides, if The Thunderbug is discovered, whoever�s here is going to be in a lot of danger. Would you rather have Eun or Samantha here by themselves?�

Morgan sighed. He hated to admit it but the logic was impeccable. He wasn�t able to gallivant around with quite the same vigor that he once had � the Die Glocke affair had seen to that. �All right.�

�Good man,� Lazarus said. He turned to the others. �We need to break into two teams. Wade and I will each lead one of them.�

Within seconds, the groups took shape: Lazarus would take Dirk and Eun with him to the home of Anthony Mobius; Thunder Jim would oversee Red and Samantha as they explored the abandoned Illuminati base.

Agreeing to keep in touch via the Assistance Unlimited radios that were standard issue for Gray�s assistants, the two squads split up, each eager to track down Leviathan.

Morgan walked back onto The Thunderbug and closed the door behind him. He sat down heavily in the pilot�s seat, flipping on the radio. The state-owned station was blaring propaganda crafted by Josef Goebbels, who oversaw such things in the name of The Fuehrer. Morgan�s German was sketchy at best but he could pick up references to Hitler�s speech and to his announcement of a special alliance with their friends in Italy.

Disgustedly, Morgan flipped the dial until he found a station that was playing classical music. At least there, he was free from The Fuehrer�s message of warfare and hate.

Had he realized that he was listening to the work of Richard Wagner, he might have felt differently. Referred to as �The Master� by Adolph Hitler, Wagner�s music was everywhere in the Third Reich.

�Creepy,� Red muttered, as the trio walked down the halls of The Illuminati�s former base. The place had been picked clean, leaving no sign of inhabitation. There was no furniture nor any decorations left to be seen. In fact, it looked like it had just been built and was fit for a king. Marble floors, ornate arches and gold piping on the trim were all signs of the fortune that had been spent to build the place and Samantha couldn�t help but be impressed.

�I can�t imagine we�ll find much in the way of clues,� Samantha said. �And there�s no way that Mobius is still living here.�

�Be that as it may,� Thunder Jim answered, his powerful voice echoing off the high ceilings, �We�re going to look at every nook and cranny. From what I understand, The Illuminati abandoned this place pretty quickly. Even if they were experts in covering their tracks � and we know they were � they still may have left something behind.�

�Not to mention a trap or two,� Red said. �Should we split up to cover more ground?�

�That sounds like a dreadful idea to me,� Samantha replied. �We�re in a strange place and, like you said, there�s bound to be at least one scary trap waiting for us. We should stick together.�

Wade and Red exchanged a look that seemed to say, �Women,� but neither disagreed with her. The three of them began a laborious and somewhat tedious search through each room, opening closets and cabinets whenever they were found.

Due to the fact that the building was three stories tall, the process took quite a while. When they returned to the first floor foyer, it was Thunder Jim Wade who noticed something peculiar. �This staircase,� he said, stroking his chin and staring at it. �There�s something beneath it.�

Samantha walked around it. �How do you know?�

�Instinct.� Wade approached the staircase, which was set in the wall at the base. He felt alongside the edge until he found an unusual section that felt like a seam. He traced it with his fingertips until he found an area that seemed to be more indented than the rest. He pressed against this with some force and all three of them heard a click as some clasp was activated. The wall swung inward, revealing a set of stairs leading to a hidden basement.

�You�re amazing!� Samantha exclaimed.

Wade looked accusingly at Red. �How come you and Dirk never say things like that to me?�

�We�re always thinking it.�

�Hah!� Wade stepped onto the first step and began the downward descent. He held a lighter up in front of him but it did little to push back the stygian darkness. At his heels came Red, followed by Samantha. �Watch it,� he warned. �Some of these steps are a bit wobbly.�

Thunder Jim Wade stepped down onto the basement floor, wishing that his lighter were a bit more powerful. �Feel along the walls. See if there�s an electrical switch.� He joined in the search, his nostrils flaring. There was a strange odor down here that he couldn�t quite place.

�Found it!� Red called out. He flipped the switch and all three of them blinked as bright light flooded the circular room.

The walls of the room were adorned with painted murals, depicting a variety of awful scenes: a bloated woman giving birth to some octopoid creature, its tentacles snaking out from her realistically depicted vagina; a group of well-dressed men standing around a bleeding man, staked spread-eagled to the ground; and a nude man with the head of a lion, an image that Samantha knew quite well. That same design had been printed on a gold coin that Lazarus owned, which had been the only clue to his identity upon his awakening on the shores of Sovereign City.

For the first time since their arrival, the trio saw furniture that had been left behind. There were three chairs in the center of the room, each with handcuffs and heavy chains draped over their backs. Both the chairs and the chains were stained with dried blood.

An altar was also present, set against the far wall. Its stone surface was similarly topped by gore.

The source of the strange odor that Wade had detected was quite clear: huddled beneath the altar was some sort of gelatinous mass. It was a filmy white in color and about the size of a large sack of potatoes.

�What the hell is that?� Red asked, having finally noticed it. �Is it� moving?�

Samantha took a few steps closer, noting that the mass was quivering in an intelligent manner. It was like it was drawing away from the light. Before she could point this out to the others, the creature spun about and she screamed in terror. It was some sort of wormlike beast, with tiny little arms and a horrid face inset in the jelly-like body. The face was disturbingly human and the lips were twisted in malice.

The monster moved with surprising speed, scooting across the floor and slamming hard against Samantha�s body. They landed hard, with the worm-thing secreting some sort of slimy substance that quickly began numbing her flesh. Unable to properly fend him off as her limbs began to become paralyzed, Samantha cried out in appreciation as Red began kicking the beast, finally dislodging and sending it rolling across the floor.

Then it was Thunder Jim Wade�s turn. Seeing how Samantha was increasingly unable to move, he realized that the worm-thing had some sort of paralyzing effect. He reached up and tore at his shirt, ripping it to tatters under his incredible strength. He then wrapped up his fists like a prizefighter and approached the monster, which was now recovered from Red�s assault. The horrid thing slithered toward Wade, emitting a series of hisses designed to intimidate its foe.

Thunder Jim Wade, however, was no stranger to the macabre. He descended upon the creature and began pounding it with all his might. His fists sank deep into the gelatinous body, however, and he found himself struggling to free them. The worm thing bit at him with its teeth, drawing blood.

�A little help here?� he shouted.

Red sprang toward them, intending to resume the kicking that had seemed to be so successful. He wondered about that for a brief second � his foot hadn�t sunk into the worm�s skin like Wade�s fists were doing� Perhaps the thing could somehow control its own density?

In the end, Red couldn�t worry about that. There�s wasn�t enough time, as the widening area of wounds on Wade�s arms could attest. Red drew a pistol and fired, delivering three bullets that sank quietly into the worm�s body. They popped back out a moment later, expelled by the creature, whose lips almost seemed to smile at Red�s horrified expression.

Wade grimaced, yanking as hard as he could. One of his hands slipped free but to his horror, he saw that it was a bloody mess. Apparently, the worm was actually digesting his limbs!

�Red!� Samantha shouted. �Get out of the way!�

Red jumped back, looking back at where he�d left Samantha. Though still partially paralyzed, she had recovered enough to rise to a seated position.

During all of the confusion, Wade�s lighter had fallen to the floor, where Samantha had grabbed it. She lit it, sending up as large a plume of fire as the device would accommodate. Then she hurled it toward the worm, her unerring aim allowing it to land flame-first atop its head.

The effects were immediate: the worm began to scream, emitting a high-pitched sound that made Samantha wince. It also released its hold on Wade�s other hand, going into a powerful rolling movement designed to dislodge the lighter. Unfortunately for the monster, it had the opposite effect, fanning the flames that now ran the length of its body.

Red covered his face to try and avoid the stench but it was impossible. Instead, he tried to focus on his friend�s condition. �Are you going to be okay, amigo?�

Wade was examining his limbs. They were red and raw, with blood oozing from more than one place. But he was able to clench his fingers into a fist without too much pain. The worst part was that the rags from his torn shirt had gotten down under his skin and he was now forced to peel them out of his flesh. �I�ll be fine. Go check on Miss Grace, please.�

Red nodded and hurried over to help Samantha back to her feet. She was shaking her extremities, trying to restore the life to them. �How did you know that fire would work like that?� Red asked.

�When you�ve run into as many monsters and supernatural beasties as I have, you pick up on a few tricks. Number one: the undead always hate fire.�

�Wow,� Red murmured, scratching the back of his head. �Gorgeous and smart when it comes to fighting monsters? I should take you home to meet mom.�

�I thought your friend Dirk was supposed to be the ladies� man,� Samantha teased. �You�re not a bad catch yourself, actually. Handsome and you can cook? My mom wouldn�t be at all disappointed if I brought you back after all this was over.�

The blush that swept over Red was enough to make Samantha smile. She decided to help take the pressure off Red by changing the subject. �Why do you think they left that thing here? They had time to clean out the entire place but not the basement?�

�I think I can answer that for you.�

The three heroes turned in unison, realizing that during the battle someone else had come down the stairs. A man wearing a long black coat and a dark suit stood there, a smoking cigarette held in one hand and a pistol in the other.

He was tall and well built, with the body of a swimmer. His dark hair was slicked back and he was quite handsome, though Samantha found something in his manner slightly effeminate. Perhaps, she mused, it was the way he held his cigarette. Despite the fact that many men associated smoking with manliness, she�d always felt that few were able to pull it off. As if to prove her point, the stranger pursed his lips and took a drag off the cigarette, in a way that any starlet would have been proud of.

�Are you Mobius?� Wade demanded to know, moving to stand in front of Samantha and Red. Samantha could see why Dirk and Red idolized him � he was obviously willing to take the bullet for his men.

The smoking man exhaled, blowing smoke at Wade. He smiled, revealing a gold tooth on the upper right. �Nein, Herr Wade � and yes, I recognize all three of you. I am Otto Kramer, Gestapo.�

Samantha�s dislike for the man caused her to act a bit more rashly than the situation demanded. �The Gestapo lets in Nancy-Boys now? I guess those rumors about your Fuehrer are true.�

The shocked expressions on Wade and Red�s faces almost made up for the stupidity of her action.

Kramer, however, merely laughed and tossed down his cigarette, grinding it beneath a shiny black boot. �I like you, Fraulein. You are very spirited.�

�Wish I could say that I like you, too. But a Gestapo officer is generally one step above dog poo.�

Red barked with laughter. He quickly silenced himself but his admiration was clearly written across his features.

Kramer pointed his pistol at Wade�s chest and approached the man. �You should keep your little terrier on a leash.�

�Woof,� Samantha said, finally drawing a glare from Wade that told her she�d gone far enough.

Thunder Jim faced the German, not bothering to even glance at the gun. �Herr Kramer, are you here to arrest us? We thought this building was abandoned.�

�So you think it is fine to break into it and go looking about? Things must be so different in America.� Kramer shrugged his shoulders. �But, no, I do not plan to arrest you. I plan to aid you, in fact.�

�Go on.�

Kramer lowered his weapon, holstering it at his hip. �The Fuehrer had a love/hate relationship with the men who utilized this building. He desired membership, you see, and they constantly rebuffed him. They strung him along, of course, taking advantage of his dedication and zeal. But, in the end, they were nothing more than a front for Jews and their lovers.�

Samantha spoke up again, much to Thunder Jim�s chagrin. �Uh, I don�t think that�s right. There were plenty of ardent Nazis in The Illuminati.�

�Nazis, perhaps, but not ardent ones,� Kramer countered. �Their primary allegiance was never to The Third Reich.�

�You�re pretty chatty for a Nazi,� Thunder Jim commented. �Most Germans are tight-lipped for fear of getting their keisters into trouble.�

�I am a bit� flamboyant, I admit. But I am good at my job, which is why I am able to keep it. I was assigned to watch over this facility and to monitor for any continued Illuminati activity within Berlin.�

�And you�re going to help us because�� Wade pressed.

�Most of The Illuminati have fled Germany, going deep undercover. Lazarus Gray did a surprisingly good job of ferreting out their activities. Believe me, we all watched in shock as we saw the dismantling of that ancient group.�

�I�ll tell Lazarus how much he impressed you,� Samantha said. �I�m sure it�ll mean the world to him.�

�Be sure to tell Herr Sporrenberg the same.�

Samantha�s mouth became a flat line. She wondered if Kramer knew that Jakob was now Eidolon� or if he were simply making a harmless joke.

Kramer, meanwhile, had returned his attention to Wade. �Anthony Mobius is the only known member of The Illuminati that we believe is still in Berlin because there is no record of him having left � and, believe me, we have been monitoring the borders for his movements.�

Wade said nothing, though he now knew it was unlikely that Lazarus would find anything of substance at Mobius� home. �He may have means of travel that you�re not capable of tracking. We made it here, for instance.�

�True. Well, I did promise you that I would help you, didn�t I?�

�Actually, first you said you�d be able to tell us what that monster is and why it�s here.�

Kramer nodded. �The Illuminati did many foul rituals in this place. When they fled and took their files with them, many of the beasts were put to the torch. This one they left behind because he was once a member of the Inner Circle. They thought it a kindness to leave him alive, so that he might continue to feed. He�s had his fill of transients who managed to find their way in through the tunnels.� He wandered over behind the altar and pushed hard, revealing a passageway. �I�m sure you would have found this sooner or later.�

Wade sighed. His arms hurt and he was tired of whatever game the Gestapo officer was playing �What kind of help can you offer us?�

Kramer reached into a pocket, his hand returning with a photograph that he held out to Wade. �This woman. She was seen closing one of Mobius� bank accounts right before his disappearance.�

�And?�

�And she has a home registered in her name in this city. It is a home that is frequently visited by large numbers of people, many of whom I believe to be former members of The Illuminati. The address is written on the back of the picture.�

Wade smiled. �Why haven�t you barged in there?�

�Because I have been told not to. For every person who wants to see Mobius brought in for questioning, there are two others who have been bribed with money or favors to cover his tracks.�

�So you want us to do it for you,� Wade said.

�You are so bright, American.� Kramer strode toward the stairs. �I will respectfully ask that you lock the door on your way out. If you deal with Mobius, then you and I will never have need of seeing each other again. It will be like this conversation never happened.�

The trio waited until they heard Kramer exit the building upstairs. It was Red who spoke first, warning, �It might be a trap.�

Wade shrugged his broad shoulders. �Maybe, but it doesn�t smell like one to me. I think he�s on the up and up � he wants us to do his dirty work, that�s all.�

�Let�s head back to The Thunderbug,� Samantha suggested. �When Lazarus returns, we can check out this lady�s house together.�

Wade agreed, already thinking that this quick trip to Berlin was being turned into a larger one. Still, there was nothing to be done about it � one way or the other, Leviathan had to be found� and stopped.

Lazarus Gray shone his flashlight through the darkened room. He could hear Dirk Marat and Eun Jiwon in the other areas of the apartment, ripping open drawers and cabinets. From their occasional oaths, he knew they were having as much luck as he was: though not stripped bare like The Illuminati base, it was clear that this apartment was not likely to provide much in the way of clues.

Slowly, Lazarus moved through the bedroom, kneeling so that he could peer under the mattress and then under the bed itself. Mobius was smart but he wasn�t infallible � he had to have made some mistake, something that could confirm his identity as Leviathan and provide a means of tracking his current location.

Something caught his eye and Lazarus flattened himself on the carpet so that he could stretch further under the bed. His fingers caught hold of a box, of the sort that you could keep postcards in. Sitting back, he positioned the flashlight on the floor so that the box was illuminated. Then with both hands, he undid the small clasp and tilted back the lid. Inside were index cards, each filled out with a meticulous and masculine style of penmanship.

Some of the cards consisted of no more than a name and date while others were written in code and of much greater information. Calling upon the scattered memories he possessed from his days as Richard Winthrop, Lazarus was able to translate several of these. One was a binding spell, used in the summoning of minor demons. Another was a report about Walther Lunt and his first battle with Assistance Unlimited.

Flipping through more of the coded entries, he finally came to something that seemed intriguing. It was more hastily scrawled than the rest and it read:

Awful mistake. Never should have summoned in that condition. But she�s here now. Alexa. What is she? Doomed. Stupid! She�ll destroy me.

Lazarus folded the index card and slipped it into his pocket. He closed the box and carried both it and his flashlight back into the living room. He was met by Dirk, who looked discouraged.

The slim blond man ran a hand through his hair and said, �I found zilch. How about you?�

�A box of note cards. Might be useful.� Lazarus started to say something about the coded message mentioning Alexa but before he could do so, the front door to the apartment suddenly shattered beneath an onslaught of bullets. The leaden missiles ripped the wooden frame apart and sent both Lazarus and Dirk diving for cover.

Lazarus craned his head around the corner of the couch as someone kicked in the remains of the door. Three men entered, all dressed in identical black suits that made it hard to see anything more than their silhouettes in the dim lighting from the hallway. It didn�t take a detective to figure out that these were more of Leviathan�s goons, no doubt assigned to look after his abandoned holdings.

Drawing his own gun, Lazarus prepared to return fire. It was just then that one of the men went down with a thud. Eun had snuck up on him in the dark and before the other two could react, he�d backhanded one of them on the rear of his skull.

The third man opened fire, one of his bullets ripping through Eun�s shirt at the shoulder. It just missed finding room in his body, leaving a red trail where it had grazed his skin.

Lazarus sat up and took quick aim, firing a bullet that ended the gunman�s life with one shot. The first man that Eun had attacked was back on his feet by now, however and he fired his pistol at Lazarus. The shot went wide, shattering a vase instead.

Dirk charged like a bull, slamming into the man and driving him hard into the wall. He finished the battle with two quick punches to the man�s head.

This left only one of Leviathan�s men left awake � the one that Eun had hit in the skull. The fellow was on his knees, shaking his head in an attempt to clear it. Eun kicked the gun out of his hand and grabbed hold of his arms, just as Lazarus shined the flashlight directly into the criminal�s eyes.

�Where is Leviathan?� Lazarus asked.

The man smiled with the zeal of the convert. �Look in the mirror,� he said with a thick German accent. �He lives in the hearts and souls of all men. Evil blooms in your black heart!�

�He�s not gonna tell us anything,� Dirk muttered. �In fact, he�s probably got a poison capsule in his mouth right now!�

�Nein,� the German replied. �I have something far more appropriate for you.�

Lazarus leaned closer, noticing a small pulsing in the man�s throat. The skin above it was irritated and showed signs of recent surgery. �Get back!� he shouted to the others, shoving the German away from him. �Get away from all of them!�

Eun threw himself into an open door to his left, landing hard on the carpeted floor.

Dirk sprinted toward the hallway and had just stepped into the light when the bodies of the men behind him exploded � small packets of explosives having been secreted in their throats. The force of the explosion threw Dirk forward and he tumbled head over heel down the hall, finally slamming against the door of another apartment. He felt something warm and wet tricking from his scalp but flowing adrenalin kept him awake and alert. He scrambled to his feet, coughing as he surged back into the smoky apartment. He saw Eun coming into view, shielding his face with the crook of his arm.

�Where�s Lazarus?� Dirk asked, blinking as his eyes filled with water. The walls and furniture were stained with gore, adding to the hellish scene. The stench was so bad that he almost retched.

�I see him!� Eun moved through the smoke, kneeling at his employer�s side. Lazarus was conscious but he was bleeding from a wound on his right leg. When the Germans had exploded, their bodies had become deadly shrapnel � a piece of skull was now sticking from Lazarus� body.

Eun reached out and yanked it free, immediately applying pressure to the wound as blood began to gush.

�Tear off a strip of curtain,� Lazarus said. �I�ll tie it around my leg.�

�Better hurry,� Dirk added. �The authorities are going to be here soon.�

Lazarus cinched the piece of cloth around his wound and then stood up with a grimace. He waved Eun away when the young man tried to help him. �I�m fine. Dirk�s right � we don�t have time to waste.�

The three of them hurried down the stairs, just as cars came screaming around the street corner. Lazarus led his companions through several alleyways and side streets, using his knowledge of the local geography to great advantage. He had a habit of studying maps of any locale that Assistance Unlimited was to be visiting and it had come in handy many times before.

�Where to?� Eun asked, once it was clear that they were free of pursuit.

�Back to the park,� Lazarus answered. �And then I think I have the name of someone we need to find.�

�Who�s that?�

�Alexa.�

Morgan drummed his fingers on the top of the steering console, trying to resist the temptation to look at his watch. It had only been five minutes since the last time and he realized that he was fretting more than an expectant father.

Both groups were made up of professionals. They could handle themselves.

So why was he feeling so nervous?

Morgan realized that things had changed a lot since he�d met Lazarus Gray. Before, he�d had a reputation as a cool customer, someone who only thought of himself. But now he viewed Assistance Unlimited not just as coworkers but also as family. That�s why he was so concerned, he realized. Because if he�d learned anything from the whole Die Glocke and Eidolon cases, it was that death could come for any one of them at any time � and he was deathly afraid of losing Samantha, Eun or Lazarus.

�I�m turning into an old woman, worrying like this,� Morgan said aloud. He stood up, hoping to find some distraction. He received it in the form of a solid knock on the door.

Morgan froze. Wade had made it clear that any of their group would call ahead on the radio before approaching the vehicle. So who was this?

For a moment, Morgan pondered taking The Thunderbug straight up into the air but he pushed that thought out of his mind. The vessel looked fairly simple to operate but he was in no hurry to crash and burn, either.

Cocking his pistol, Morgan approached the door and peered out its window. Seeing nothing, he momentarily wondered if he could have imagined the sound. Confident that he hadn�t, he threw the door open and stepped out, gun at the ready.

When he whirled to his right, he realized he was staring directly into the barrel of a gun. That, however, was not nearly as surprising as the identity of the man who was holding the weapon.

The hooded man wore a skull-like mask and a bodysuit crisscrossed with holstered weapons and pouches. Morgan knew who it was behind that mask because his departure had left wounds within Assistance Unlimited that had yet to heal.

�Jakob?� Morgan asked, lowering his gun. �What the hell are you doing here?�

�I was about to ask you the same thing. And the name is Eidolon.�

�We�re following the trail of a criminal named Leviathan.� Morgan reached up and pushed the gun aside. �Mind putting that away? Makes a fella nervous.�

Eidolon holstered his weapon. �Since when does Assistance Unlimited have a ship like this?�

�We don�t. It belongs to Thunder Jim Wade.� Morgan looked at the craft, which was still hidden from view. �How did you even find it?�

�I see things differently now. When you�ve died and been reborn, your way of viewing the world changes.�

�Still spouting that kind of stuff?� Morgan asked, his tone becoming icy. �Look, I don�t know how that Darkling fellow managed to brainwash you but I told Lazarus we should have dragged you back to Sovereign and straightened you out!�

�Glad to hear that you�re being supportive of my new life, Morgan.�

�I�ll never support you acting like a lunatic!�

Eidolon looked away and Morgan realized that he was watching for something.

�Are you being followed?�

�I killed a high-ranking member of Hitler�s inner circle earlier today.�

�Then you need to get away from here! The last thing I need is for you to bring the S.S. down around our heads!�

�They lost track of me.�

�Then why are you still looking out for them?�

Eidolon turned his attention back to Morgan, who found the gaze of that skull-encased visage disturbing. �Morgan, I want to tell you something.�

With no small amount of hesitation, Morgan nodded. �Okay.�

�Death clings to this man like a funeral shroud. All who follow him shall know suffering. They will die alone and unloved. That will be the fate of Lazarus Gray and his Assistance Unlimited.�

Morgan jerked as if he�d been slapped. He remembered those words, all too clearly. He�d been at Lazarus� side when an old witch had said them, not long after Die Glocke[10]. At the time, Lazarus had told him that he�d been experiencing nightmares, in which those phrases were repeated. �How did you-?�

Eidolon interrupted him, placing a hand on Morgan�s shoulder as he spoke. �Since I last saw you, I�ve been all over the world. I�ve gotten involved in things that defy description. And while I was visiting Tibet, I was shown a stone tablet that dates back over a thousand years. Those words were carved onto it. In English, French and German.�

�But that�s impossible�.�

�You know better than that, Morgan. Nothing�s impossible. But you have to ask: why do those words keep recurring? And how much truth is there behind them?�

Morgan shook his head. �Doesn�t matter. I�d follow Lazarus to hell and back.�

�You just might have to do that.� Eidolon lowered his voice. �Look, Lazarus and I share a common experience. I understand why you follow him, why I followed him. But he�s doomed, whether he�s ready to admit it or not. You need to decide if you want to go down with him.�

�I do,� Morgan replied without hesitation. �But I wouldn�t write Lazarus off just yet. Like you pointed out, death couldn�t stop him the first time.�

Eidolon nodded and stepped away. �I better go. Tell Samantha and Eun that I wish them well.�

�And Lazarus, too, right?�

�That goes without saying.�

As the masked man turned to leave, Morgan called after him. �Hey! What about Abby and The Darkling? Have either of them showed up again?�

�No.� Eidolon sounded uncertain for the first time in the conversation. �I�ve heard rumors that The Darkling is active again but every time I look into, I come up with nothing.�

�And no news about Abby at all?�

�No.�

Morgan sighed, adjusting his tie as a nervous habit. He closed his eyes for a moment, picturing Abby in his mind. He had a soft spot for pretty girls � in his youth, he�d wanted to bed them all. Now that he was older, more and more often he felt protective of them, like he was their brother or father. �I hope she�s not dead,� he said aloud. �Poor kid had only really started to live.�

When he opened his eyes, Eidolon was gone.

When the group had reassembled, Lazarus and Wade exchanged information. It was decided that Wade would fly The Thunderbug to the address they�d been given and hover above, taking a good look at the house before they made any move to investigate further. Thanks to the cloud-generating technology that The Thunderbug possessed, they were confident that no one below would see them.

Shortly after the surveillance had begun, Morgan drew his fellow members of Assistance Unlimited to the side. He had thought about keeping knowledge of the prophecy to himself but his relationships with the others were based on trust. He couldn�t keep something like this to himself.

After he�d told them the details of his conversation with Eidolon, all eyes turned to Lazarus. The team�s leader was still hobbled slightly by his injury but he refused to show any signs of the pain they knew he was experiencing. �I was hoping to hear something more positive with regards to Abby,� he said at last.

Samantha blinked in confusion. �That�s it? That�s what you have to say? Didn�t you hear what Morgan said? Some rock from thousands of years ago has something about you written on it� how can that be?�

Lazarus shrugged. �I don�t know. Possibly it has something to do with Die Glocke? We know that it allowed for time travel.�

Samantha crossed her arms over her chest and took a deep breath. �It�s just� so strange.�

Eun laughed. �Every day is strange for us. Who cares? Did any of us think that we were going to grow old in this job? I know I didn�t.�

�What about Edward? Aren�t you worried about how your death would affect him?� Samantha pressed, referencing Eun�s lover.

�He knows and understands. It�s not different than being with a police officer� except for the chances that I�ll end up being killed by a giant undead mummy are like a thousand times greater.�

�I think Eun�s right,� Morgan said. �It�s unusual but we can�t worry about it. Eventually we�ll either find out the truth about it or we�ll die with it being a mystery. Either way, it has nothing to do with finding Leviathan.�

Lazarus interrupted, pointing out that this private discussion ran the risk of insulting Wade and his crew. Leading the way back to the others, Lazarus said, �Have you seen anything suspicious?�

Thunder Jim Wade and his men were smoking cigarettes. They looked up through the haze of smoke and Wade nodded. �Just things that match up with what Klaus said � a whole host of people coming and going. Do you think this mysterious woman is the same as your Alexa?�

�A woman who is helping hide Mobius and his funds? Another who is important enough to him that he�s writing enigmatic statements about her in his notes? I�m not sure they�re one and the same but it seems as likely as not.�

Dirk stamped out his cigarette in an ashtray and stood up. �So what�s the plan? Kick in the door and start beating people up?�

�I like that plan,� Eun said.

Lazarus looked out the window, staring down the two-story home below. �We need to move quickly,� he said. �I suggest that Wade and I drop down on the roof and then swing in through that open window on the second floor. The rest of you take up positions around the house. Anyone tries to leave, you stop them. If you hear us call for help, you break in.�

Thunder Jim Wade took one last drag on his smoke. �Works for me.� He gestured to the rear of the vessel. �There�s extra guns and ammo back there if anybody needs it.�

As the various aides moved to replenish their arsenal, Wade lowered his voice and asked, �Is your leg going to slow you down?�

Lazarus shook his head. �I�ll be fine. I�ve learned how to ignore pain.�

Wade accepted that, having mastered that same skill over time. �I don�t think Leviathan is going to be down there.�

�I don�t think so, either. But we�re getting closer. Every step along the way tells us a little bit more about him.�

Thunder Jim Wade balanced on the edge of the rooftop, waiting for the signal to be given from down below. When each of their aides was in their prearranged position, they would call in on their radios. The final transmission came from Eun and Lazarus gave a nod to Wade.

Thunder Jim swung down, springing through an open window. He dropped into a roll, coming up in a fighting stance. He was in a bedroom, one that he guessed was a man�s from the furnishings and the bed�s disarray.

He relaxed a bit as Lazarus followed him into the room. Gray landed with a grimace but Jim didn�t ask about his injury since his companion had made it clear that it wasn�t something he planned to linger on.

Gray surprised him by taking one quick look around the room and announcing, �This is it. He sleeps here.�

�How the hell do you know that?�

Lazarus moved directly toward a piece of pottery sitting on a shelf. It was carved from obsidian and was a fertility symbol, the sort that Thunder Jim had seen a thousand times before: the overly curvaceous figure of a woman with massive breasts and hips. The only thing that set it apart was an odd stain over the head of the statue. �I�ve seen this before. The one time I met Mobius, I was allowed to see him in his personal office. This same statue sat on the corner of his desk. I remember being surprised by its presence and he explained that it was of occult significance. The woman who had owned it had been the most powerful witch of her time and when she�d died, she�d coughed up blood all over the piece.�

�Lovely,� Thunder Jim muttered. �So let�s cross our fingers and hope he�s here.�

Footsteps in the hall alerted Lazarus that they were in danger. The two men dove for cover, with Jim dropping to the floor and rolling under the bed while Lazarus took refuge in a walk-in closet.

The door opened and a young man stepped in. His brown hair was combed back and he wore butler attire. He glanced at the disheveled bed and gave a little sigh. He had just begun to straighten the covers when Wade grabbed his ankle and gave a hard pull. The butler toppled to the floor, too stunned to even cry out.

Lazarus was there, gun in hand, when the butler finally came to his senses. �Make a sound and you die,� Lazarus bluffed in German. �Do you understand?�

The butler nodded, his eyes wide. He was frightened but no so much that Lazarus didn�t realize that this man was used to danger.

�Is Anthony Mobius here?� Lazarus asked as Jim Wade crawled out from under the bed.

�He is gone,� the butler replied quietly. �He left hours ago.�

�Alone?�

�No. Frauelein Alexa was with him.�

�Where are they going and when are they coming back?� Wade asked.

The butler�s eyes flicked toward Thunder Jim but then quickly returned to the gun that was pointed at his face. �I do not know. I swear it!�

�I believe you,� Lazarus replied. �We�re almost done questioning you. Now: how many people are in this building and how many are armed?�

The butler closed his eyes, mentally compiling the answer. �Counting all the servants and guards, there are maybe three dozen people here. But only a third of those carry weapons.�

Lazarus nodded. �Thank you. For your assistance, I�ll make this as painless as possible.�

A quick crack to the side of the butler�s skull left him unconscious.

�If Leviathan isn�t here, maybe we should just skedaddle,� Wade said. �No sense risking any of our men for a bunch of goons.�

�They�re part of his infrastructure. We�re not just taking down the man, we�re crushing his organization.� Lazarus moved toward the bedroom door. �I guarantee you that most of the people here have records a mile long. We can�t let them run free.�

Before Wade could reply, the sounds of multiple women screaming rose up from below. Both men sprang into action immediately, forgetting any attempts at stealth. They bolted from the room and hurried down the stairs, where they found a scene straight out of one of the more lurid pulp magazines.

A large box was in the center of the foyer, its lid lying on the floor. A card written in Mobius� recognizable hand was turned upwards, revealing the words OPEN ME, followed by a specific time. Lazarus glanced quickly at a clock on the wall and saw that the appropriate hour had been reached.

From within the box emerged a strange creature: milky white and octopoid in appearance, its dark eyes traveled hungrily over the maids and other servants in the room.

A tentacle shot out and grabbed one of the women, slamming her into the wall. Her head cracked under the blow, spilling blood down her maid�s uniform.

Lazarus immediately recognized what this was: Leviathan was bolting from his hiding hole and his policy was of the scorched-earth variety. He was planning for this beast to kill all those who might lead his enemies to him.

Gray took aim and opened fire, his bullet expelling leaden death. The bullets ripped into the monster�s side and attracted its full attention. Another tentacle extended toward Lazarus, snatching him up by the ankle and yanking him off his feet.

Thunder Jim Wade leaped forward, landing atop the tentacle that was roped around his ally�s appendage. Yanking free a knife from around his waist, Wade raised it high and buried it into the monster�s flesh. It was thick and Wade had to grunt with effort to pierce it. But once the creature�s thick green blood began to flow, the beast went wild. It released its grip on Lazarus but began attacking with all of its tentacles at Thunder Jim Wade.

A tentacle closed around Wade�s throat and lifted him into the air, squeezing so hard that he felt like his eyes were about to pop out of his head.

More gunshots began to ring out now as the forces of Assistance Unlimited and Thunder Jim Wade�s team began forcing their way into the house, drawn by the sounds of violence. To their credit, one and all recovered from their shock quickly and began attacking the monstrous beast.

Samantha, Morgan and Red all unloaded their weapons at the monster�s head while Dirk and Eun bravely moved close enough to engage it in physical combat, peppering its body with blows.

Wade, still gasping for air, was suddenly tossed aside. His body hurtled through the air, headed toward a potentially fatal impact with the wall.

Lazarus, ignoring the pain in his injured leg, sprinted after him. He threw himself up, using his body to halt Wade�s movement. The two men slammed together and fell to the floor in a tangled heap.

Shaking his head to clear it, Lazarus looked up to see that the monster was thrashing about wildly now, nearly insane with pain. The thing�s tentacles were slamming here and there, breaking the spines of several of the house�s servants and knocking Eun over onto his back.

As Lazarus struggled to his feet, he saw Morgan edging closer to the creature, dodging its flailing limbs. The group�s oldest member jumped, grabbing hold of the thing�s head. He plugged the barrel of his gun directly into one of its eyes and fired, emptying the last of his bullets straight into its brain.

Morgan slid to the floor as the monster died. He was panting loudly but when Samantha ran up to him, concern etched on her face, he grinned roguishly and pulled her into his arms. They embraced for a moment and when they pulled apart, he was laughing.

�Did you see that?� he asked, looking about. He mimed putting the gun to the creature�s head. �Bam!�

Samantha grinned. �You�re insane.�

�I feel more alive than I have in years.�

Eun was pulled to his feet with the help of Dirk. �What the hell was that thing?�

�A last ditch effort to cover Leviathan�s tracks,� Lazarus answered. �Scour the house and look for anyone who hasn�t fled. It�s possible one of them might have useful information.�

The team dispersed quickly, leaving Thunder Jim Wade and Lazarus Gray alone.

Wade was rubbing his throat, which was scraped raw. �This isn�t good, you know.�

�What do you mean?�

�If he left something like this behind, it�s because he isn�t planning to come back.�

Lazarus nodded, a grim smile fleeting across his stoic features. �True. But now I know where he�s headed.�

The confusion that passed over Wade�s face was undeniable. �How in the hell�?�

Kneeling, Lazarus pushed through the dead creature�s tentacles until he found the card that had accompanied the white box. On one side were Leviathan�s directions about when to open the parcel but on the other was a woman�s handwriting, a flowing script that contained the words �Bachelor�s Grove.�

Wade took the card from Lazarus and studied it. �Bachelor�s Grove� that sounds familiar.�

�It�s an area located about twenty miles south of Chicago. It was established in the 1840s. The cemetery there is a hub of supernatural energy. I�ve never visited it myself but during my time with The Illuminati, I heard several stories about it.�

�This card doesn�t mean that�s where they�ve gone.�

�I think it does. I think it was left here for us to find.�

�Why would Mobius want us to track him?�

�I�m not sure that he does. The tone of the card I found � about how Alexa was going to destroy him. Maybe she intends to.�

�Doesn�t seem like much to go on,� Wade murmured. �But it�s not like we�ve got anything else going for us.�

Lazarus said nothing as Wade wandered away. He knew that Thunder Jim felt that they were running in circles. Lazarus, however, felt like his prey was coming ever closer.

Perhaps Bachelor�s Grove would be the place where Leviathan�s run finally came to an end.

Bachelor�s Grove had an ambience to it that made Leviathan smile beneath his mask. The air spoke of ancient rituals and broken hearts, of dreams shattered beyond repair and the life�s blood of those who had lived in vain to achieve them.

�How old is this place?� he asked, wandering through the tombstones and inhaling deeply. A full moon hung fat and bloated in the sky above him, illuminating everything in a soft, milky white glow.

Alexa watched him, an enigmatic smile on her lips. Despite the chilly weather, she wore a seductive red dress that bared more of her legs and cleavage than would have been acceptable in polite company. �Officially, it dates back to 1844 as a burial ground but you�ll note that some of the tombstones are older.�

Leviathan stopped in the very center of the cemetery and turned slowly in place. �Dark things have been done here.�

�Very. Even before the white man had come here, the Indians considered this ground tainted. They tried to talk the settlers out of burying their dead here, for fear that the angry dead would rise again.�

�And did they?�

�There are stories,� Alexa said with a laugh. �But then, there always are, aren�t there?�

Leviathan caught sight of an unusual monument and he approached it slowly, reaching out with the fingers of his right hand to touch it. It was a life-sized sculpture of an angel, one of her breasts exposed. Her wings were half curled around her and one arm was outstretched, as if she were reaching toward something unseen. A perfectly sculpted tear was frozen forever on her cheek. �This is lovely.�

�No one in the area knows who built it,� Alexa responded, moving closer. �It literally appeared one day. Some say that God himself put it here, to symbolize his sadness at what has become of Man.�

Leviathan turned to look at her. �No more games. Why are we here? What am I to do?�

�You�re prepared for ultimate power?�

�I am.�

�I like it when you�re bold like this.�

�Stop teasing me,� he warned. �Let�s just get on with it.�

Alexa jumped up on the pedestal that held the angel�s statue. She clung to its wings and her face grew serious. �There�s a man named Grover Jackson who tends the cemetery. He�ll be along soon. When he does, you need to kill him and spill his blood on the oldest grave in this field � that one right there.� She pointed toward a black marker, so worn with age that Leviathan could scarcely make out the words on its surface.

Leviathan nodded. Murder was hardly something that would give him pause. He started to ask about the significance of the marker and who was buried beneath it, but in the end, it didn�t matter. All that mattered was the power he�d receive.

�I think I hear him coming now,� Alexa said breathlessly. She seemed keenly excited about the entire affair, which intrigued Leviathan, since she so rarely displayed interest in his affairs. It always seemed like his troubles were a source of amusement to her.

Leviathan moved behind the black marker and knelt down, knowing that Alexa would also find a hiding place. It was time for Grover Jackson�s life to come to an end.

Grover whistled to himself as he walked through the cemetery. He wore frayed pants and a dingy gray shirt. A jacket that was too large for him covered his thin shoulders and shielded him from the chill. At seventy-two years of age, he had outlived two wives. He was the father of six children and four grandchildren.

All in all, things had been good for Grover, despite the fact that he�d never had much in the way of money.

For nearly 35 years, he had worked as the graveyard�s keeper, tending to the flowers and making sure that vandals didn�t wreak havoc at night. He�d heard all the stories about ghostly visitations and more than once, he�d seen things that were hard to explain � but he felt like the cemetery�s residents regarded him as a natural part of things and not an interloper. As such, he�d never felt threatened.

Until tonight.

Grover stopped near the crying angel and his whistling ended abruptly. Something wasn�t right, though he couldn�t quite put his finger on what. He looked around and finally yelled, �Is anybody out there? Don�t play with me, now! Nobody�s supposed to be out here except me and the dead!�

�How appropriate,� Leviathan said, rising from behind the black marker.

Grover stared through the gloom at the masked man and he quickly blinked his eyes to clear them. It almost looked like the figure was shifting, changing, into something inhuman. Wormlike things extended from the man�s mouth, wiggling in the air. �What the hell are you?� he asked.

�Some call me the Devil,� Leviathan replied, pleased to see that the hallucinogenic gas he�d released into the air was working. He always carried several capsules of the stuff, which could be broken easily between his fingers. �But that�s not true. The real devil is inside each and every man.� He tapped his chest. �The real Satan is right in here. Can�t you feel it? Straining to get out? To run free?�

Grover realized that he could feel it. His heart was hammering so hard in his chest that it felt like someone was banging a drum. He clutched his chest, suddenly short of breath. �I�ve been a good Christian,� he whispered.

�I�m sure you have.� Leviathan moved toward him, his hands suddenly bursting into flame. Grover could feel the heat from them. �But there comes a time of final judgment for all men. If you�ve been a good and just man, you have nothing to fear.�

Grover closed his eyes, unable to look at the horror before him. His feet seemed rooted to the ground. �Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.�

Leviathan laughed mockingly. �Do you really feel comforted, Mr. Jackson? Truly?�

Before Grover could answer, Leviathan had grabbed him by the throat, squeezing with an almost inhuman strength. He lifted the old man off his feet and literally carried him over to the black marker. He could sense Alexa watching him but he never took his eyes off of Grover�s face. The old man was kicking and punching but his blows were ineffectual.

�It�s time to walk through that valley, Mr. Jackson.�

Alexa ran her fingers through the gore, spreading the blood over the recessed letters on the marker. As Leviathan watched, the liquid filled in the gaps, allowing the letters to be read at last. They glowed with a malevolence that shocked even the jaded former leader of The Illuminati.

The words HERE LIES CALVIN MEEKS, MAY HIS BLACK HEART ROT IN HELL were now clearly defined.

�Who was he?� Leviathan asked.

�An ardent follower of evil,� Alexa replied. �His descendant lives in Sovereign City, still following the dark path laid down by Calvin[11].�

Leviathan continued to watch, his eyes and ears memorizing every little detail of Alexa�s actions. The lovely woman stood up and began undressing, revealing her lovely form to his hungry gaze. The moonlight seemed to enhance the redness of her hair and the milky whiteness of her body. Her nipples hardened in the cold air and Leviathan�s mouth suddenly felt dry.

�Calvin Meeks,� she said, raising her voice. �Long have you lain in this grave, awaiting the hour of your summoning! Now is the time when you can repay the debts that you owe! Come forth! Arise!�

The ground began to rumble, nearly dislodging Leviathan�s footing. Shadows lengthened and clouds overtook the moon, plunging the cemetery into an almost stygian darkness.

A hand burst forth from the grave of Calvin Meeks, tatters of skin wrapped loosely around bone. Earth was dislodged as the undead creature clambered forth, rising unsteadily. The corpse swayed on its heels, its skull rolling about before finally coming to a halt. The stench of death was nearly palpable and the worm-eaten flesh and clothing of Meeks were enough to drive Leviathan back a few steps.

�Beautiful Alexa,� Meeks hissed, his voice issuing forth from a mouth that had long ago lost its tongue. When it came to the supernatural, Mobius had long ago learned that the ways of the flesh no longer applied.

The true shock took a moment to register with Mobius, however. Meeks knew Alexa� and he now wondered if the price for his own power would be something similar: centuries of rotting consciously under the soil, waiting for her to come and give him new bidding?

�How may I serve you?� Meeks asked. He seemed fixated on the nude woman before him, having not even glanced in Leviathan�s direction.

�That gift I gave you so long ago must now be returned.� Alexa reached out and took the monstrous face in her hands.

Meeks shifted uneasily. �I love you, still�.�

�I know and it will always be appreciated.� As Leviathan watched with a mixture of jealousy and disgust, Alexa leaned in and kissed the corpse, her tongue pushing between its rotting teeth. The glow that emanated from deep within the dead man�s sunken eye sockets grew brighter, swelling in intensity until Leviathan could no longer look at it.

When Leviathan noticed that the light was gone, he saw that Alexa stood there smiling at him. Meeks was gone, his remains reduced to dust lying at her feet.

The beauty lay down on the soft earth, spreading her legs for him. �Now, my Leviathan. Take what you want from me� and receive my gift into your very soul.�

Mobius hesitated for only a moment before his lust overcame him. He had desired this woman for what seemed like such a long time� and now she was offering her body to him. He threw himself on top of her, hurriedly getting half undressed. As he plunged into her, he felt something peculiar � as if a part of her was simultaneously working itself into him. He shuddered and shook as pain became pleasure, all twisting together into something earth shattering. He howled like a wolf as his mind and body seemed to explode.

When the deed was over, he lay panting atop her, only dimly aware of her indulgent laughter. Then he rolled off, landing on his back. He stared up at the stars in amazement, realizing that he was seeing between them, into the regions of space that normal man couldn�t comprehend. There were dimensions tucked away in the mathematical corners of our universe, hidden lairs for beings far older and far more dangerous than anything born of Earth.

�What did you do to me?� he asked and his voice rolled like thunder.

�I gave you what you wanted, in more ways than one.� Alexa stood up and began dressing, her facial expression quite serious. �You need to test your power.�

Leviathan rose to his feet and adjusted his clothing. He saw the sway of her breasts as she pulled her dress down over her head. His desire was muted now, not just because he had climaxed so recently, but because he no longer viewed her in the same way. He could see her true form now and though it did not disgust him, it was far from appealing. She was like some sort of human spider, her body covered by a fine trail of coarse hair and her face distorted by multiple eyes and a strange, inhuman mouth.

Without speaking, Leviathan raised both hands and channeled his power into the very earth. Within seconds, the ground was writhing from beneath, as all those buried here were called forth. The shambling dead rose up, staggering toward their new lord and master. �Satisfied?� he asked.

�Somewhat.� Alexa crossed her arms and stared at him. �Now that you�re no longer just a showman, what are your plans? How are you going to use all this amazing power?�

Leviathan paused, considering the matter. His first inclination was to simply hunt down Lazarus Gray and Thunder Jim � and then utterly destroy the both of them. But now that his body seethed with eldritch energy, he realized that while such a path might momentarily satisfy him, he now had the capability of thinking in much grander terms.

�Bachelor�s Grove� that sounds familiar.�

Leviathan grunted in surprise. He�d heard Thunder Jim Wade�s voice in his head and gotten a quick visual to accompany it � somehow, Wade and Gray had found a card with the words Bachelor�s Grove on it. They knew where Mobius had gone!

�Something wrong?� Alexa asked, though the look in her eyes suggested that she knew very well what the answer was.

Leviathan struck quickly, seizing her in glowing tendrils of energy. The bonds held her arms, legs and throat. �You betrayed me,� he hissed.

Alexa stared at him unafraid. �You want to kill them, don�t you? Think of it as a present from me to you� I�m bringing your worst enemies right to your door!�

Leviathan frowned as the tendrils faded away, not by his command. �The powers I possess� you still hold the keys.�

�Of course,� she answered as she rubbed at her neck, which was reddened by the tendril�s touch. �I�m no fool.�

�The image that I saw � was that happening now?�

�Give or take a few hours.�

Leviathan sighed. Despite the energy that he could feel coursing through his veins, he knew that Alexa still didn�t take him seriously. He was a game to her, just as Meeks had been � something to entertain herself for a time as the march of time pressed onward.

Looking around at the dozens of walking dead that awaited his command, Leviathan gave a nod of approval. When he spoke again, it was to his new army and not to Alexa. �Let them come. When my enemies arrive, you will strike them down! You will rip them limb from limb and feast upon their hearts!�

The monsters moaned their agreement.

�Are we to wait here and watch?� Alexa asked.

�No,� Leviathan said with a shake of his head. �We�re going to one of my other bases � I have several here in the States. And then I�m going to take over the world.�

Alexa laughed loudly. �How audacious! Do you have a plan for this or are you just going to start killing people until the rest bow down to you?�

�When I was working my way through the ranks of The Illuminati, I came into possession of a book entitled Al-Azeed�s Guide to Grimoires and Scriptures. It�s an obscure work but much sought-after by occultists. While reading it, I came across a passage that described a set of even older books � The Blood Tomes[12].�

�Do go on,� Alexa said with interest. �For the first time, I think you actually have real promise.�

Leviathan ignored the jibe. �There were six books in the series, all holding secrets relating to the relationship between this plane of reality, which it called The World of Mortals, and another, The World of Shadows, where many of the magical creatures from our myth reside. According to the old stories, these two Worlds were once a single plane � but they were forcibly separated long ago.� Leviathan cracked his knuckles as his enthusiasm began to build. �The exact nature of each book varied but all of them contained spells to travel to and from each World.�

�Do you have these Tomes?�

�I have one of them and that�s enough. I plan to make contact with the denizens of that place,� Leviathan answered. �If the powers of that World are half as strong as the Tomes suggest, then my army will be far greater than these walking corpses!�

Alexa placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it approvingly. �World domination? I like it!�

The members of Assistance Unlimited were piled into a rented sedan, each of them being knocked about by the bumps in the road. Lazarus was at the wheel, Eun at his side. In the backseat were Morgan and Samantha.

Though Leviathan�s vision had shown him that Lazarus and his followers were working with Thunder Jim Wade�s men, that was no longer the case. Upon returning to Thunder Island, the two groups had split up, with Assistance Unlimited picking up the Bachelor�s Grove trail while Wade led his men to another site entirely.

Morgan glanced out of the window, noting that the sun was peeking through the clouds. It was just past dawn and the day was shaping up to be a cold and wet one.

�I wish I�d been there,� Samantha said, catching his attention.

�Where?�

�When you saw Jakob.�

�Oh.� Morgan adjusted his tie, feeling a twinge of jealousy. Though he�d tried to channel his feelings for Samantha into a more brotherly type of affection, he still got a bit bothered when she showed an obvious interest in another man. �He wasn�t very talkative.�

�Still� Do you think he�ll ever come back to us?�

�Honestly? No, I don�t. I think that bridge has been crossed.�

Samantha leaned her head back and closed her eyes. �Sometimes I wish we still had access to that Die Glocke machine, so we could go back in time and fix the things that have gone wrong.�

�That worked out really well for Miya,� Morgan murmured, then caught himself. He looked at Lazarus, hoping his employer hadn�t overheard. Since Miya Shimada�s disappearance, her name was rarely mentioned.

The conversation in the backseat ceased when Lazarus quickly applied the brakes. For a moment, Morgan was afraid that he�d insulted Lazarus to the point where the man was going to confront the issue. But then he realized that the problem at hand was far more serious than that.

Up ahead, Morgan could see the entrance to the cemetery � and the scores of reanimated corpses that were swaying to and fro amidst the tombstones. They seemed to be shuffling about, as if waiting for something� and Morgan had a deeply unsettling feeling that he knew what it was.

It was Eun who voiced the suspicion. �They knew we were coming. How the hell did they know that?�

Lazarus, ever the pragmatist, gave a cursory shrug of his shoulders. �Doesn�t matter. We�ll put them back in the grave and then worry about it.�

Samantha leaned over the front seat. �Why go in there at all? Surely they�ve moved on. This is nothing but a trap!�

�Are you suggesting we just leave these zombies out here, to do as they please? We have to put them down.�

Samantha nodded, seeing the logic. Still, she wasn�t a fan of facing the undead, having grown tired of it after the team�s numerous battles against the undead Egyptian queen, Femi.

The foursome stepped from the car, each checking their weapons. Morgan and Lazarus were armed with rifles, while Samantha and Eun held pistols in each hand.

As soon as Lazarus was spotted by one of the zombies, it emitted a hoarse cry and raised a hand, pointing a skeletal finger in his direction. This served as a signal to the others of its kind and all began surging forward.

�This is going to be like shooting fish in a barrel,� Morgan muttered.

The four heroes spread out and began taking aim. When their gunfire began to erupt, the zombies fell quickly beneath their sharp aim. The noise was so intense that none of them noticed that a second, smaller group of zombies moved out of the woods to their left. Left behind by Leviathan, this group hungrily approached, mouths open and claw-like hands extended.

They reached Samantha first, one of them grabbing hold of her blouse and yanking it with tremendous strength. The fabric ripped, revealing her smooth shoulders and the upper swells of her breasts, which remained half-hidden by her brassiere. She screamed in surprise and the men whirled about, finally realizing the danger.

Morgan blew the head off the zombie who held her torn blouse and Samantha found her inner strength quickly enough to deal killing blows to another two. She quickly reloaded, backing away to stand next to Morgan.

Lazarus shouted above the din, �Morgan, Samantha � the two of you focus on the new arrivals! Eun � stay with me!�

Eun nodded and followed Lazarus as he took the battle toward the cemetery. The young Korean recognized that Lazarus was trying to avoid having the group become surrounded. As one of the zombies drew within reach, Eun drove a hard punch into the creature�s midsection, knocking it back a few feet. He then fired directly between its eyes, ending its threat. Eun preferred physical combat if given the choice but with these undead enemies, it was quicker by far to use bullets.

Lazarus was a blur of activity. He managed to reload even as he continued mowing down his enemies. Marching directly into the cemetery, he spun about, delivering one expertly placed bullet after another. None of the zombies required a second shot.

Functioning almost like an automaton, Lazarus allowed his mind to wander. Though he hadn�t shared this with the others, he found this particular adventure to be of extreme importance.

As Richard Winthrop, he�d been a party to murder, deception and ritualized abuse. Though he�d turned against The Illuminati and eventually undergone a rebirth as Lazarus Gray, he�d carry the scars of guilt for the rest of his new existence. As such, he�d made it a goal to eradicate all traces of The Illuminati � and Leviathan�s continued presence meant that he�d failed in that regard.

As a zombie�s brain matter splattered against his face, Lazarus also realized that the continuing theme of rebirth continued to play a part in his life. The Darkling, Eidolon, Walther Lunt, Leviathan, Femi, even Lazarus himself� all of them had �died� and been �reborn,� sometimes more than once.

Lazarus drove an elbow into the belly of an obese zombie who grabbed hold of his arm. Then he spun about and slammed the butt of his rifle into the creature�s nose. He pulled the trigger, blowing the head off another zombie who was now behind him.

How long he continued to bring final death to these reanimated monsters, he had no idea. When he finally expended the last of his bullets, he tossed aside the rifle and drew a knife, using it to slice at the skulls and throats of those that he fought. His body was covered from head to toe with gore, so much so that he had to shake his head violently to fling the stuff from his eyes, allowing him to see.

When he felt a strong grip on his arm, Lazarus growled and turned, prepared to stab another enemy. He came up short when he realized that it was Morgan, staring at him with wide eyes filled with concern.

�Lazarus! It�s me! It�s me! Put the knife down!�

Taking a deep breath, Lazarus stepped back. He looked around to see that his friends were the only ones left standing. A sea of corpses, a few of which were still twitching, surrounded them.

�It�s over,� Morgan said, the words coming out in a hoarse rush.

Lazarus noted that Samantha bore several bloody streaks across her cheek and for a moment, he feared that she was hurt � then he realized that the blood wasn�t her own. �I�m sorry,� he said to all three of them, looking chagrined. �I got lost in the moment.�

�That�s putting it mildly,� Samantha responded. �You looked pretty scary out there.�

Lazarus bent down and cleaned off his knife on the clothing of one of the zombies � a man whose suit had probably once been the nicest thing he had owned.

�Everyone, look at this!� Eun had caught sight of Meeks� black grave marker, with its still-glowing lettering. The others followed him over to it. �What do you make of it, Lazarus?�

�I don�t know � but it was obviously a key component of whatever they did here.� Lazarus turned and looked back toward their car. Another vehicle was approaching, this one with the markings that identified it as belonging to the local Sheriff�s department. �I think the sounds of gunfire finally reached the outside world.�

�Think our Sovereign City credentials will fly out here?� Morgan asked, keenly aware of how bizarre this scene must appear.

Lazarus nodded. �I�ll handle it. You three open up the trunk and dip into the spare clothing we brought along.�

As Assistance Unlimited followed their leader�s orders, Lazarus felt a surge of hope. Thunder Jim Wade and his men had followed another lead and if they struck oil with it� then perhaps this day would turn profitable after all.

Leviathan and Alexa strode up to the front door of his Boston estate, a Colonial mansion that was surrounded by a massive stonewall fence and ornate metal gates.

�You�re a wealthier man than I realized,� Alexa commented. �Houses this big, all over the world?�

�Most of my bases are actually far smaller. I have apartments here and there. But yes, my personal wealth is impressive.�

Alexa waited patiently as Leviathan fished out a set of keys from his pocket, finally settling on the correct one. He opened the door and stepped inside, coming to a halt that was so abrupt that Alexa almost bumped into him from behind.

Thunder Jim Wade, flanked by Dirk and Red, were standing in the foyer, satisfied grins on their faces. Dirk and Red were both brandishing pistols but Wade stood there with arms crossed over his massive chest.

�Welcome home, Mr. Mobius,� Wade said. �Feels good to turn the tables on you� you invade my home, I do the same to yours.�

Leviathan�s mask seemed to ripple with emotion, as if it were a living part of him. �How did you find this place?�

�We found a list of addresses back in Berlin, in your little box of note cards. Turned out some of them were registered in names that matched others in that same box. Lazarus figured that they might be other homes for you to hide in, like a rat.�

�I own six properties in the United States alone,� Leviathan pointed out, sounding more than a little bit impressed with their ingenuity.

�Yes but this one is the oldest � and the largest. Lazarus thought your ego would dictate the choice you made.� Wade added this last bit as a dig at his enemy. In fact, Lazarus felt certain that this location would be the most likely home for the villain�s occult artifacts, due to its location along a mystical ley line.

Leviathan strode forward quickly, placing a hand on Wade�s chest. Both Dirk and Red pointed their weapons at the villain but neither pulled the trigger.

�How clever,� Leviathan said. �But as we�ve seen, you three simply aren�t in my class.�

�I�m immune to your hallucinogenic gasses,� Wade retorted. �Now that we know your tricks, we�ve taken precautions.�

Leviathan laughed, a mocking sound that grew in volume until the walls seemed to shake and Red threw his hands up over his ears. �You can�t begin to fathom my �tricks,� Mr. Wade!�

Before Thunder Jim could answer, blue fire jumped from Leviathan�s hand and engulfed him. Wade screamed as pain raced through him. It was an unusual sort of agony, nothing like burns that he�d suffered in years past. This fire seemed to bypass his flesh and go straight for the organs underneath. It felt like he was being cooked from the inside out.

Dirk opened fire, three bullets going straight into the side of Leviathan�s skull. The man went down in a pool of blood.

Red snatched up an expensive carpet and threw it over his friend, using it in an attempt to pat out the flames. It had no effect and Wade�s screams seemed to reach a new pitch.

Dirk grabbed hold of Alexa, squeezing her wrist painfully. �What did your boyfriend do to him?�

�Why don�t you ask him?� the beautiful redhead said. Dirk turned, following her gaze. Leviathan, impossibly, was rising. As Dirk watched in amazement, all three of the bullets retreated from the madman�s skull, falling to the floor, as the wounds seemed to close up behind them.

�To hell with this,� Dirk said. He dropped Alexa�s arm and raised his weapon, intending to try once more to end Leviathan�s life. As his finger closed on the trigger, however, the weapon exploded in his hand.

Red stared in shock. Thunder Jim Wade was still writhing on the floor and now Dirk was on his knees, his hand smoking and bleeding.

Standing up to his full height, Red holstered his weapon and dropped into a boxing stance. He�d just seen that guns weren�t enough to fell his opponent but he wasn�t going to turn tail and run.

Bobbing and weaving, Red began peppering his foe with punches to the face. The first few sent Leviathan�s head jerking back but when the villain started to laugh, Red�s hope began to fade.

�You boys are quite a riot,� Leviathan hissed. He backhanded Red so hard that the man�s neck nearly broke from the impact. As it was, Red hit the ground, blood pouring from his mouth, which was now full of shattered teeth. It hurt badly when he tried to move his head.

Leviathan bent down and grabbed Red by the back of his hair, lifting him off the floor. �Any last words, American?�

Alexa cleared her throat, drawing an angry glare from Leviathan.

�What?� he demanded.

�Your mystic fire has worn off.� Alexa pointed in the direction of Thunder Jim Wade. �Look.�

Leviathan�s head whipped about, just in time to see Thunder Jim Wade�s fist whistling through the air. The blow clanged against the villain�s metal mask and sent him against the wall. Red slumped back to the ground and Wade stepped over his friend, intending to continue carrying the battle to his enemy.

�I�m going to kill you,� Wade murmured. �Sometimes I like to leave my enemies alive so the justice system can have them� but I think that would be far too kind in your case.�

Leviathan growled low, like an animal. He clenched both hands into fists and blocked the next punch from Wade. He pounded the hero�s midsection with his own blows but Wade would not be denied.

Grabbing hold of Leviathan�s head, Wade repeatedly slammed it back into the wall, not stopping until blood and gore were dripping down its surface. Confident that Leviathan was dead, Wade tossed his corpse aside.

Had Wade witnessed the failure of his friends� bullets to end the villain�s life, he might not have been so confident. But during that time, he had been writhing on the floor in agony, so he was unaware of how powerful Anthony Mobius had become.

Wade badly wanted to check on the status of his friends but he was very aware of Alexa�s continued presence. He moved closer, looming over her and lowering his voice. �Are you going to cause me any trouble?�

Alexa�s eyes twinkled. �Not at all. But I�d seriously advise you to take your friends and run. Leviathan won�t be down for long.�

Wade glanced over at the villain�s body, which was still and quiet on the floor. �You seriously think he�s about to get back up?�

�Yes, I do.�

Thunder Jim Wade exhaled. He was bone weary and the only thing keeping him on his feet was sheer force of will. He knew that he couldn�t survive another bout with Leviathan.

Fixing Alexa with his steely gaze, he asked, �Why are you doing this? What are you gaining from helping him?�

�He amuses me.�

�That�s it?�

Alexa nodded. �I�m very long-lived� and things get dreadfully boring. Mortals like Mobius intrigue me. Their passions are so strong and they fight against the dark with such ferocity!� She leaned close and he could smell her scent, sweet and enticing. �For centuries, I�ve been drawn to the perverse amongst your kind. But you and Lazarus Gray are giving me new appreciation for� what do people call you? Heroes?� She reached out and touched his forearm as she spoke.

Wade was normally enough of a gentleman to hesitate when it came to striking a woman but there was something in Alexa�s manner that told him that this was far from being a normal female. Thus, he felt no qualms about shoving her away from him. �Tell Mobius to start running. As soon as we�re recovered, we�re coming back here to finish what we started.�

Without waiting to hear her response, Wade turned and lifted up Red, holding the big man over his shoulder. It was a tremendous display of strength, made all the more impressive when he hooked Dirk�s arm around his other and virtually carried him out, as well.

Alexa watched him go, a feeling of disappointment welling up within her. Unless Leviathan was able to surprise her, she was beginning to think that she had picked the wrong side in this. It didn�t matter who won or lost but the true excitement seemed to lie in the enemy camp.

With a wistful expression, Alexa nudged Leviathan with her foot. �Wake up, dear Anthony. Sleepy time�s over.�

�You just walked out? When you had him on the ropes?� Morgan could scarcely hide the anger from his voice.

Assistance Unlimited had finally met up with their allies from Thunder Jim Wade�s group at Massachusetts General Hospital. The beautiful structure was the nation�s third-oldest hospital and had been designed by famed architect Charles Bulfinch. This was pointed out to them all by Samantha, who had more than a passing interest in old buildings.

Thunder Jim Wade drew himself up to his full height, crossing his arms over his chest. They were in a hospital room, shared by both Red and Dirk. �My men were injured. I was on my last legs. And the man wasn�t human. I made a tactical withdrawal.�

�I can�t believe this.� Morgan brushed aside Samantha�s hand from his arm. �Lazarus, tell him he made a mistake!�

Lazarus Gray noticed that Wade was staring daggers at him. �I think that he made the best decision he could, under difficult circumstances.�

Wade nodded, ignoring the way that Morgan was shaking his head. �Thank you, Lazarus.�

�What we need to focus on now,� Lazarus said, �is how to proceed from here.�

Eun looked confused. �We jump in a car and head to his estate� right?�

Morgan waved a hand. �Hell, Leviathan and his dame are probably halfway around the world by now!�

Samantha yanked hard on Morgan�s sleeve this time, drawing his attention. She hissed under her breath, �Stop acting like this! You�re looking like a fool!�

Morgan frowned and lowered his voice. To Samantha, he said, �You�re on my side, aren�t you?�

�I don�t know what I would have done � but if you and Eun had been bleeding on the floor, I probably would have ended up doing the same thing that he did!�

Morgan seethed but he clenched his jaw and said nothing more. Deep down, he knew that his anger stemmed as much from his own feelings of helplessness as from Thunder Jim Wade�s actions. He wanted to catch Leviathan so badly that he could almost taste it.

Eun seemed eager to move the conversation away from Morgan�s outbursts, which only further shamed the oldest member of the team. If Eun thought you were being a hothead, there was a real problem.

�So,� Eun continued, �are we going to the estate or not?�

�I think that�s got to be our first move,� Lazarus agreed. �Even if he�s moved on, we might find a new trail to follow. Of course, just as at the cemetery, there�s bound to be a trap left behind.�

�I can come with you,� Wade began but his words trailed off when Lazarus shook his head.

�Stay here with your friends. If all of you recover in time to help us bring him down, that�s wonderful. But if not, we can handle this.�

Wade narrowed his eyes. �Leviathan attacked us, too. We�re in this for the long haul.�

�I respect that,� Lazarus countered, his mismatched eyes flashing. The dull brown one seemed to brighten, while the emerald eye showed the full glory of his passion. �But right now, all three of you would do nothing but slow us down.�

Wade sighed, knowing it was true. �Take him down, Lazarus. And do it hard.�

�I have an idea about how to do that,� Lazarus answered. �I just hope that it works.�

Leviathan sat on the floor, having finally moved past the anger that had threatened to consume him. To think that Thunder Jim Wade had bested him, even for a moment, was almost too much to bear � especially now that Leviathan�s power had been increased to such a degree!

Finally, he had forced himself to focus on the task at hand. With a copy of the Blood Tome lying open on the floor before him, he had watched as Alexa had drawn a pentagram in chalk all around them both. She had then taken her spot at his side.

A single candle illuminated the room, which had been darkened by heavy black curtains strung over every window and under every door. With a booming voice, Leviathan began to speak, uttering the words that he had earlier memorized. With every syllable, a tiny breeze began to gain in strength, until by the end both his and Alexa�s hair was fluttering wildly: �From ice born darkness, the Shadows do come. Hidden away in the mountains of fetid imagination, the women are lost and the men are bled. The passageway of the heart can never be left ajar!�

There was a flash of light and the sound of crashing thunder, followed by an oppressive silence. The flickering candle went out, plunging the room into stygian darkness.

For a moment, Leviathan feared that something had gone wrong. He had been expecting an immediate response� but then there was a creaking sound, like that of an ancient door swinging open.

A flickering red light took human form, though it was strangely elongated. The head was horned and over the entire frame hung a loose red cloak. The dim lighting obscured the features of the stranger�s face but they seemed misshapen and cruelly formed.

Leviathan spoke first, when it became clear that the red-tinged figure was not going to do so. �You come from The World of Shadows?�

�Such a fool,� the figure hissed. �Playing with forces that you barely understand.�

�I opened the rift,� Leviathan retorted. �And I control your fate. You are bound within this pentagram.�

A dark laughter bubbled forth from the stranger�s lips. He looked about him, as if sizing up the mystical trap that had ensnared him. �I�m at your mercy, eh? Then I had best be on my best behavior, lest I risk your terrible anger!�

The sarcasm was all too apparent. Feeling a rush of anger, Leviathan demanded to know the stranger�s name.

�Amongst my own kind, I am called Haggard. And, yes, I reside in the place you know of as The World of Shadows. That is where we were banished, long ago.� Haggard shifted his body in serpentine fashion. �Why have you thrown open the door?�

�Because I seek an alliance with the dark forces of your world,� Leviathan said. �I will open the rift again and again, until all of your kind stride the Earth. And all I ask is that you bow down before me!�

�Such arrogance,� Haggard scolded. �Why would we serve you?�

�Because I am the one who sets you free.�

�Bah! Once we are free, the deed is done. Now that I am here, what is to stop me from killing you and tearing open the rift myself?�

Leviathan frowned. He looked toward Alexa, seeking her guidance, but he saw no sign of her. Turning back to Haggard, he said, �I think you�re underestimating my power.� He stepped toward the entity, drawing upon all the years of leadership that he�d earned with The Illuminati. �I can give you this planet but I�ll only do so if you serve me. It�s that simple. Refuse and I�ll toss you back into the Shadows and seal this rift.�

Haggard growled deep in his throat. He held up a skeletal arm, covered by a thin layer of dark skin, and flicked his wrist. The chalk pentagram smeared, sending chalk dust flying. �Remember your place, human. Powered by a demon you may be, but I contain my own power source within me!�

Leviathan realized his peril. Without the pentagram to bind him, the creature could leave whenever he wished. Until this night, he had never summoned a beast that was immune to such things.

Haggard floated toward Lazarus, grabbing hold of his shoulders. �Listen to me, human! The dark powers of my world will not join with you� they fear the wrath of Eobard Grace! He came from Earth to establish a kingdom in our midst! He has forbidden any Shadow from coming here!�

�Then I will destroy him,� Leviathan said.

�Be quiet!� Haggard�s voice boomed. �I will give you one gift, the tiniest fraction of my power. Use it wisely. Spread your chaos and speak not of where you receive this boon!�

Leviathan hesitated for only a moment. Though he felt trepidation over the sort of gift this thing would provide, he had already forfeited his soul to Alexa. What could be worse than that?

Haggard leaned close, his terrible eyes boring into those of Leviathan. �I feel your mystic flame within� I give you a taste of my own. Now you shall have The Devil�s Fire. Make the world burn!� The awful laughter returned, echoing loudly. �Burn! Burn!�

Leviathan was engulfed in the same mystic fire that he had used on Thunder Jim Wade. It was so much stronger than before that he almost screamed in pleasure/pain/bliss/torment.

And as his mind burned, so did the innocent.

In Sovereign City, nearly six hundred people erupted into flame. One of them was Jimmy Conrad, a 45-year old man who made his living shining shoes outside the bus station. He had just finished pocketing a shiny nickel, his mind drifting away to the lineup of the Sovereign baseball team in the upcoming game. Before he�d even made it past the cleanup spot, his skin sizzled and his screams began.

On and on it went, until the casualty toll numbered more than ten thousand. In cities all across the world, men, women and children were inexplicably caught up in The Devil�s Fire. Though some survived their injuries, most died in agony, unable to comprehend how or why this had happened.

It was a tragedy that, for most of the world, would never be fully explained. It cut across all nationalities, all races and all political persuasions. None were spared.

Lazarus Gray and his friends were pulling into the driveway of Leviathan�s Boston estate when The Devil�s Fire began to burn. Thus, they had little inkling as to the full horror that was transpiring. Their first clue came as Samantha exited the vehicle. She squinted into the gloom, seeing the telltale signs of fire in the distance.

�I wonder what�s going on?� she asked.

Morgan gave a shrug. His mood had lightened a bit since the scene at the hospital but he was still grumpy and had been ever since he�d been left behind in Berlin. �There�s no telling. I think I hear fire bells, though, so somebody will take care of it.�

Eun tilted his neck from side to side, cracking it. He was at the side of his employer, keeping a close eye on the man who had changed all of their lives. �Are we all going through the front door?� he asked. Though he favored a direct approach, he was always willing to do as Lazarus asked.

�Yes. I want us to stay together.� Lazarus brought out a pistol and cocked it. Behind him, Morgan and Samantha did the same, while Eun remained barehanded. He could wield a gun with aplomb but when it was a matter of life and death, he wanted to fight with his fists.

Giving no sign of his earlier injury, Lazarus strode toward the door and kicked it open. He led his team inside the house, well aware that this could be their final battle.

Thunder Jim Wade was standing at his hospital room window, listening to the snores of his men, when a woman on the street below burst into flames. The shock of the moment faded quickly as she fell to the sidewalk, writhing in agony.

Memories of the mystic fire that had ravaged his body, burning his soul rather than his skin, flooded his mind. He turned and sprinted from the room, taking the stairs three at a time.

His arrival on the street outside was too late, however. The woman was dead, the flames having been snuffed out by a patrolling police officer. The quick-thinking officer of the law had yanked off his heavy overcoat and used it to beat down the fire, but the damage had been too quick and too severe.

More and more police whistles blew in the distance.

�What in the name of heaven above?� the officer asked, his Irish accent especially pronounced.

Wade�s handsome faced creased with concern. This was related to Leviathan somehow, he just knew it!

�Officer, I�m Thunder Jim Wade and��

�Don�t I know it!� the cop blustered. �I�d recognize ye face anywhere!�

�Good man,� Wade said, clasping the officer on the shoulders. �I think you and your men are going to have your hands full. I�m going to go deal with the people behind this.�

�May Mother Mary protect ye, lad!�

Wade hurried off in the direction of the estate, wondering if he could commandeer a cab en route. He passed two more people who had burst into flames, one of them a young paperboy who still breathed, but only just barely.

He rounded a corner and skidded to a stop. Standing before him was Alexa, dressed in a red dress that revealed a lot of leg and more cleavage than was socially acceptable.

�I thought I might find you in the middle of the chaos,� she purred. She put her hands on her hips and studied him with a coldly seductive smile.

�Is your boyfriend around?� Wade asked hotly.

�He�s at home, playing with his new friends.� Alexa walked closer, hips swaying. �You�ve really piqued my interest, though. I have a feeling that Anthony�s time is nearing an end� would you like to be my new toy?�

Wade clenched his right hand into a fist. �Don�t insult me by asking that. I wouldn�t join up with you if you were the last woman on Earth.�

�You�re hurting my feelings,� Alexa replied with a pout.

Wade was a gentleman at heart, always looking to do the gallant thing. But the woman before him was a monster, one who had helped empower the devil that now called itself Leviathan. She was instrumental in the attack that had left his best friends in the hospital and now innocent people burned� Those facts combined with his own mounting rage to overpower his chivalrous nature.

Wade punched Alexa in the mouth, knocking the woman off her feet. She landed on the sidewalk, blood oozing from her bottom lip and a look of pure amazement on her face.

�How dare you?!� she shouted.

�I dare plenty,� Wade answered. He reached down and grabbed a handful of hair, using it to yank her back to a standing position. �How do I stop this thing that Leviathan�s doing?�

Alexa licked at the blood running from her lip and laughed. �Your bravery borders on the absurd, Mr. Wade. But I find it strangely attractive!�

Thunder Jim released his hold on her, stepping back as her body began to shift and re-form. Her dress ripped and fell away� her limbs extended and became covered with a soft covering of fur� and her face twisted, until it was spider-like.

Alexa dropped to a scuttling position, scurrying forward with fangs extended. A nearby passerby, who had watched in mute horror until this point, suddenly lost his senses and began screaming.

Wade girded his loins and met her assault with one of his own. He grabbed hold of one of her furred legs and squeezed with all his strength. She hissed and buried her fangs in the meat of his shoulder, deadly venom racing into his bloodstream.

Immediately, numbness spread through Wade�s body. He refused to surrender to the sensation, however, continuing to pelt Alexa�s body with powerful blows.

Black spots began to appear before his eyes and he swayed unsteadily, barely able to offer even a token resistance as Alexa�s fangs sank once more into his body.

�You should never have rejected me,� the spider-like figure moaned. �I could have made you so powerful�.�

�I don�t want that kind of power,� Wade whispered, barely able to speak. He sagged to his knees. �All I�ve ever wanted� was to help� people.�

As Wade pitched forward, his hand came across a sharpened rock. It was just big enough to fit into the palm of his hand and he cupped it, knowing that he was closer to death than ever before.

With a sudden roar, Wade gathered the last of his strength and raised himself up. He brought the rock down, smashing it straight into Alexa�s eye. Gore splattered his face as he repeated the assault, again and again, until his arms could no longer function. He toppled forward, landing atop his enemy.

Alexa sagged under his weight, her legs twitching.

Lazarus Gray heard the voice of Anthony Mobius and he followed it to the source. The words that the man spoke were mostly gibberish but a few of them caught Gray�s attention: �burning,� �fever,� �pain� and �Haggard.�

When he reached the room in which Mobius stood, Lazarus paused. Leviathan was standing there, flames dancing around his frame. A pentagram surrounded him, though its edges had been smudged.

�Mobius?� Lazarus asked, stepping forward. He could sense his friends at his back, ready to enter combat at his signal.

Leviathan�s head snapped up. �Winthrop! Oh, forgive me� you prefer Lazarus Gray now, don�t you?� He chuckled to himself. �You know, Lunt had such praise for you when you were first recruited. He actually thought you�d be his ticket into the inner circle. But I had my doubts from the beginning� if I�d only listened to them, The Illuminati might still be strong, Lunt would still be alive and you�d be six feet under.�

�It�s over, Mobius. You led us on a merry chase but it ends now.�

�You�re right about that � it is going to end now. But not the way you think! I�m not just practicing minor magicks and spicing things up with illusion. I have The Devil�s Fire � and the blessings of a demon!�

Without turning to the others, Lazarus said, �Let�s do this.�

Morgan and Samantha opened fire, as did their employer. Bullets riddled Leviathan�s form and he screamed in unexpected pain. After the report given by Wade earlier, Lazarus had replaced all of their bullets with silver-tipped ones, each of which had been dipped in holy water.

Leviathan was driven back against the wall but he refused to fall, despite the wounds that covered his body. Snarling, Leviathan raised both hands and let loose with The Devil�s Fire.

Eun, who had been waiting for his chance to strike, suddenly felt his body engulfed by fire. He screamed in panic and threw himself to the floor, trying to roll out the flames. Morgan broke off his own attack to help his friend but he�d taken no more than a step before his own clothing began to smoke. Within seconds, he, too, was on fire.

Samantha screamed in despair, not knowing what to do. Lazarus, meanwhile, reached for two vials of liquid from his coat. Samantha recognized them as more of the holy water they�d used in blessing their bullets. He tossed one to her and shouted, �Throw it onto Eun! Now!�

Both heroes yanked out the stoppers from their vials and threw the liquid into the fire. Samantha wasn�t sure what good it would do but to her astonishment, the flames quickly died out. In both cases, the men looked more singed than burned, their clothes having taken the worst of it.

Lazarus whirled as Leviathan lunged for him. The masked villain slammed into the hero and shoved him hard against the wall. �You think holy water will save you? I can burn you from the inside out if I want!�

Lazarus jammed the butt of his pistol against Leviathan�s head but the blow did little besides further enraging his foe. When Samantha drove a hard kick into his kidneys, Leviathan spun about and backhanded her.

Lazarus took this as his moment to strike. Again, his hands disappeared into the pockets of his coat.

Villains everywhere knew the dangers of facing Lazarus Gray in combat� but when given time to prepare, Lazarus was an even more capable foe.

In this case, he pulled forth a golden medallion� the same one that he�d had on his person when he�d first washed up on the shores of Sovereign City. On one side was the image of a nude male figure, adorned with the head of a roaring lion. On the other side, the words Lazarus Gray were scratched into the surface.

Though everyone else in Assistance Unlimited considered the medallion to be nothing more than an Illuminati artifact, it was actually far more than that. One of the last acts that Richard Winthrop had committed was the theft of this medallion� and it was because The Illuminati�s founder himself had charged the object with incredible power.

Johann Adam Weishaupt had formed the dark society that became The Illuminati, adopting the name �Lazarus Gray� within the group. The Lazarus part of his identity reflected his rebirth, while the Gray was meant to show the moral ambiguity that The Illuminati embraced.

The ultimate symbol of his rebirth was his decision to take a portion of his soul and bind it within the medallion. Recognizing that the men who served him in The Illuminati would covet his position, Weishaupt had planned to use the medallion to restore himself to life in the event of his own demise� unfortunately, the plan had failed, leaving nothing more than a mystically powered charm in the wake of his death.

The very existence of the medallion was known to only a few, one of who had been Walther Lunt. Gray�s former mentor had told him the story behind the object, not realizing that someday it would be used against the very society that he served.

Lazarus slammed the medallion to the back of Leviathan�s head. He held it firmly in place as he wrapped his other arm around the villain�s neck. Holding on as the madman began to thrash about in hopes of dislodging him, Lazarus said the same words that Weishaupt had spoken, centuries before. �Eruptus afillium unos! Mahko jenx!�

Leviathan�s eyes flew open and he howled like an animal caught in a bear trap. He erupted into flame, covering both Lazarus and himself in brightly burning fire.

Lazarus held on tight, ignoring the pain. He believed that he had died on that beach in Sovereign, coming back from the dead for some greater purpose. Perhaps, he mused, that purpose would be revealed today.

Death was not something that he feared any longer.

Leviathan gasped as a portion of his soul was ripped right out of him, landing inside the same medallion that housed the personal energy of Weishaupt.

The flames flickered and died out, leaving both men gasping in pain. Lazarus released the villain, who sagged to the floor. The medallion was now glowing with dark power and Lazarus dropped it back within his coat pocket.

�Chief?�

Lazarus looked over at Morgan, who was helping Eun to his feet. Both men had pink skin and were wearing nothing more than burned tatters, but they were relatively unharmed. Lazarus suspected that he�d suffered worse burns than they had. �Yes?�

�Is he going to be getting back up?�

Lazarus smiled, knowing that the entire team hoped that the answer would be negative. Samantha held a hand over her bleeding mouth and her eyes carried the flash of terrible anger.

�That bastard,� she hissed. �If he does stand up again, I want first crack at him.�

Lazarus reached down and grabbed hold of Leviathan�s collar. �The power�s all gone from him now. He�s just ordinary Anthony Mobius now� maybe a bit less than that.�

Leviathan staggered to his feet, his metallic mask slipping to the floor. Underneath was no scarred visage, nor any unholy features. He was simply a man, exhausted and scared. �No� my soul� she�s going to come and take it,� he whispered.

�Now there will be less for her to have,� Lazarus replied. He nodded at Eun, who hustled forward and placed handcuffs around Leviathan�s wrists.

The villain turned his head to look at Lazarus. �You�re making a mistake. You should kill me� if you don�t� I swear, you�re going to regret it.�

Samantha moved beside the men. �Lazarus, may I be the one to answer him?�

Lazarus nodded. �Go ahead.�

Samantha belted Mobius with a right cross that would have been the envy of Joe Louis.

Eun caught the unconscious Mobius and grinned at the team�s prettiest member. �You�re one tough dame,� he said with a wink.

Samantha gingerly touched her lip. �If this leaves a mark, I may not be done with him yet.�

Three days later, the forces of Thunder Jim Wade�s group and the members of Assistance Unlimited were gathered together at 6196 Robeson Avenue.

Aside from the myriad of minor injuries, everyone was in good spirits, enjoying the relative peace that came with victory.

Samantha was playfully teasing both Red and Dirk, both of whom were wooing her affections, while Morgan and Eun were busily arguing over some sports-related issue.

That left Lazarus and Wade alone in the corner of the sitting room. They sat facing each other, talking in low tones. An untouched glass of brandy was on the table beside Lazarus, while Wade was nursing his third drink.

�Neat trick you pulled with that medallion,� Wade said, having heard the entire story several times by now.

�I wasn�t sure it would work,� Lazarus admitted. �I considered using it a while back to deal with an enemy of ours named Femi but I deemed it too risky at the time. This go-around, I had little choice.�

�Too risky?�

�Since there was already a soul housed in the gem, I was afraid there wouldn�t be room for anything else� with Leviathan, I was able to drain the power that he�d gained from Alexa and leave the majority of his soul in his body. By not draining all of him, I was able to avoid destroying the medallion.�

Wade drained the last of his alcohol and set the empty glass down on the table. �So now it�s all wrapped up? Mobius is in a nuthouse, babbling about his immortal soul and Alexa seems to be dead. Too bad we couldn�t have done all this before Leviathan burned all those people.�

Lazarus nodded in agreement.

After a moment of silence, Wade leaned forward, his elbows resting atop his knees. �Do you think he was right?�

�Who?�

�Leviathan. He said you should have killed him�.�

�As helpless as he was, it would have been murder, pure and simple. I try not to do that.� Lazarus looked away, thinking of all the villains who had returned to torment the innocent. �But there are times that it�s very tempting.�

�It�s just this Alexa woman� she wasn�t human. She might be back. And if we left her partner alive, she could spring him.�

�If that happens, we�ll take them down again.�

Wade grinned. �You never lose your cool, do you?�

An unexpected smile fluttered across Lazarus Gray�s lips, so fleeting that Wade wasn�t sure it had been there at all. �One of us has to maintain his composure.�

�Hey, now! Are you saying that I don�t?�

�If the shoe fits�.�

�Why, you-!� Wade started to rise but then stopped in place. �You�re yanking my chain, aren�t you?� He laughed loudly and slapped Lazarus on the knee.

�I do have my moments.�

�You�re okay in my book, Lazarus.� Wade�s smile vanished as a high-pitched squeal filled the room.

Eun sprang to his feet and left the room. Seconds later, the squealing stopped but Eun�s expression upon his return did nothing to dispel the concern they all felt. �That was the alarm we have hooked up to the mayor�s office. He wanted to alert us that the Williams Bridge just collapsed! And to make it even worse, he just got a message from the people who blew it � and they�re threatening to do the same at another bridge if they aren�t paid off!�

Lazarus glanced at Wade, who gave a silent nod. �Let�s go and take care of business, then.�

While the heroes were embarking on another adventure, a crimson clad figure sat in a darkened apartment. His cloak hid his well-toned frame and emphasized the broad shoulders that he possessed. Beneath his hood, he wore a horned mask, reinforcing the idea that he was some unholy figure given physical form.

Outside, there were screams, partially obscured by the roll of thunder. In all, ninety people would die in the Williams Bridge collapse but that was a small number compared to the deaths this man had caused in the past.

�How do you feel?� he asked.

A shapely brunette sat on the edge of the bed, her tousled hair falling over one shoulder. Her eyes had a vacant stare to them and a series of small white scars on her throat caught the man in red�s eye. �Strange,� she said after a long moment. �How long was I� dead?�

�Quite a while. I apologize for any lingering odors. I restored your beauty for the most part but being dead� Well, it has a way of changing you forever.�

�The Darkling� he killed me?�

�Yes. You put up one hell of a fight, though.�

Abigail Cross placed her hands in her lap and her voice became tight. �They never looked for me?�

�Oh, they�ll say that they did. But they didn�t put much effort into it. Hell, Eidolon spent more time tracking your whereabouts than Lazarus Gray did. But what can you expect from him? He uses his Assistance Unlimited team as tools in a private war. You�re not really his friends.�

�I want to find The Darkling. I want to kill him.�

�I�ll help you do that� but first, it�s time that Assistance Unlimited learns their days are numbered.�

�I�m� not sure that I can help with that.�

�Oh, you can,� the man in red laughed. �Believe me, they�ll be on their heels when they get a load of you.�

Abigail looked toward him with her vacant expression. �You want to destroy them,� she said.

�I do. I�ve watched them for a while now and I think that Mr. Gray is going to present me with a most delicious challenge!� Doctor Satan laughed loudly, a wicked sound that echoed in the dark room.

Eventually, Abigail began to smile.

�Isn�t that what you all are?� Sporrenberg countered. �Soldiers in Lazarus Gray�s war?�

Morgan sat up so quickly that he wheezed in pain. �You don�t get it, do you? We�re not fighting his war. We�re fighting ours.�

Jakob Sporrenberg�s eyes fluttered open. His brain was still fuzzy from the gas that had stolen his consciousness but he snapped to alertness when he realized that he was suspended from the ceiling, chains wrapped tightly around his wrists. His feet barely scraped the floor and from the ache in his shoulders, he�d been hanging like this for some time.

The room he was in was painted white and had no windows. There was a single table and chair in the room, both of the sort that men might unfold for a card game or get-together with friends.

There was one visible exit � a door that swung open as Jakob stared at it. The man who entered wore a long coat that brushed against his ankles, a white mask that resembled a skull, a hat and gloves. Though he�d never seen him in person, Jakob knew who this must be: the description given by Lazarus was hard to forget: this was the underworld terror known as The Darkling.

�Where are my friends?� Jakob asked, refusing to show any fear.

The Darkling regarded him coolly for a moment, saying nothing. The shadows in the room seemed to reach out for the masked man, embracing him. He seemed to both become more indistinct and larger at the same time. �I�ve read up on you, Jakob. And I think that you might be the sort of man who could serve at my side.�

�You�re insane if you think I�ll betray Lazarus. That will not happen.�

�Why? Because you�ve sworn your loyalty? Like you did to The Fuherer? You betrayed him easily enough.�

�Release me!� Sporrenberg shouted, pulling against his chains.

�Touched a nerve, did I?� The Darkling sat down, removing his hat and setting it on the table at his side. He reached and pulled away his mask, revealing a face lined with scars. His hair was missing in places, revealing the overly smooth skin that was left behind after terrible burns. �I want to tell you a story.�

�I don�t want to hear it.�

�I was once in your situation and I didn�t want to listen then, either. I was a pilot in the Great War � a damned good one. After years of not knowing who or what I really was, I found the truth: I was a killer. Unrestrained, that could have made me a bad person� but I killed the right people, for the winning side. That made me a hero. But then the war ended and there was no place for me any longer. So I traveled the world, meeting people, getting into fights and drinking myself into oblivion. Eventually I met a man named Harold Grant � he thought we were alike but he couldn�t have been more wrong. He was doing the same thing I was but he did it because he was bored. He gallivanted around, having adventures, in order to avoid real work. But when we ran into each other in a dingy little tavern in Tibet, we struck up a conversation. He told me about a forbidden sect of monks, hidden in the mountains. He said they lived in a veritable Shangri-La. They never aged, they never took part in the world�s conflicts. They lived alone, practicing arts that had horrified their brothers centuries before. In exchange for immortality and self-peace, you see, you had to give up a little bit of your soul. Grant wanted to find them � for kicks. Intrigued and with nothing better to do, I asked to accompany him. We set off together with no guides and little in the way of supplies. It was fun for him to play at games of life and death� whereas for me, it was part of my self-destructive cycle.�

�Is there some point to this?� Sporrenberg asked.

�There is but I don�t blame you for not showing patience. That�s a trait that has to be learned.� The Darkling leaned back in his chair, his scarred visage becoming impassive. His voice sounded distant now, as if he were lost in the mists of his own past. �We looked for that lost city for nearly three weeks, until we were half-starved and covered with bug bites. Grant finally died one night, without even making a sound. When I found him in the morning, I buried him in a tiny unmarked grave. I took the small bits of food he�d been hoarding, along with his papers and his money. I don�t know why � I�d never been a thief before but it seemed a waste to just bury them with his corpse. It wasn�t as if he was going to need them.�

�Eventually I fell into a coma-like state. I was malnourished and several times I would wake up screaming, gasping as my body fought to stay alive. It was the end of my existence� and then they came for me. The men from the hidden village found me and took me to their home. I remember one of them waking me up, staring down at me with an expression of pure relaxation. He asked me, �Do you wish to live?� I told him yes, I wanted to live� Now that death had me at its door, I realized how badly I wanted to avoid its touch. And then the man said, �Very well. But you must learn our ways. You must become one of us so that we may send someone forward into the dangerous world. Dark days are coming and though we are hesitant to interfere ourselves, we need a champion. You will be that champion. But you will learn to hate us first.� And he was right. I did hate them.�

Jakob ceased struggling, having realized that the bonds were simply too strong for him to break. Instead, he chose to begin conserving his energy, biding his time until his captor could make a mistake.

�They nursed me back to health,� The Darkling said, continuing his narrative. �And they locked me in a box, little more than a hole in the ground. It was completely dark, so that I couldn�t even see my hands in front of my face.�

On cue, the light in the room extinguished, leaving Sporrenberg squinting to make out his surroundings. It seemed to grow colder, as well, making the German shiver.

From very close to his left, The Darkling spoke again. �They taught me to see past the fa�ade of the living world. They showed me how to look into the darkness and see the truth. I�m going to do the same for you. But our minds are not receptive to darkness; it fears the absence of the light. So we have to bludgeon our way through, we have to batter our minds into submission. The way to do that is through pain.�

Sporrenberg started to speak but then he felt something jab into the side of his neck. There was a small prick as a needle pierced the skin and some kind of fluid flowed into his body. Agony followed within seconds, causing his body to flop like that of a fish out of water. He was in such torment that he didn�t even notice as The Darkling stepped away from him, picking up his mask and pulling it back into place.

Sporrenberg screamed at the top of his lungs, feeling like his life was careening toward a fiery end.

The darkness clung to him like a lover.

The snow and wind tore at his exposed skin, making his teeth chatter and forming a growing suspicion in his heart: he was going to die here, in these damned Tibetan mountains.

And for what, he wondered, not for the first time.

Dexter Welles was not quite handsome but he possessed a lithe build. He had always been athletic in the way that required little effort. While others struggled to maintain their weight or to build muscle, Dexter was always in the peak of health. In addition to this, he was brilliant, with half a dozen degrees from the finest institutions around the United States.

And now my supposed brilliance has led to the death of Harold Grant, he mused. His frostbitten fingers struggled to grab hold of another rock. He tightened his grip and pulled his body up with shaky arms, a string of obscenities pouring form his cracked lips. Cursing had proven to be a good way of taking his mind off the agony. Anger � at himself, at his country, even at beautiful Margo, who had refused his advances on their last night together � that was what drove him onward.

To stop would be to die.

Movement was the only option.

Where had it all started going wrong? If pressed, Dexter would have pointed to the Great War, where he�d proven himself to be an excellent hunter and killer of men. He had no idea how many of the Kaiser�s men had died at his hands but the number was considerable.

But returning to postwar life had been difficult. His studies now seemed to lack passion and even his romance with Margo was strained. When he closed his eyes, he saw nothing but corpses, stacked like cordwood.

Finally, Dexter had taken to hanging out in the worst dives that Manhattan had to offer. He was tempting fate, he knew, hoping to draw out danger so that he would have an excuse to lash out. He needed the violence, needed the dark thrill of putting his life on the line.

Dozens of bar fights had ensued, troubling Margo and dragging Dexter�s name from the society columns into the seedier crime digests.

Margo had been the one to suggest a return to mountaineering, an interest of Dexter�s from his youth. It was dangerous, but controlled, and Margo hoped it would help restore her lover�s sense of equilibrium.

Begrudgingly at first, Dexter had begun plotting his first trip � then, with more enthusiasm, as he stumbled upon stories of a hidden temple in the mountains of Tibet, a place where men found a grueling test� one that would either lead to inner peace or an end to all suffering. He had made a few stops in the dark corners of the globe before actually making it to Tibet. He had punished himself with drink and with more fighting.

And then one night he had met handsome, cocky Harold Gant. For a moment, he thought he had found a kindred spirit, someone to understand the gigantic melancholies that infected him. But they weren�t so similar, after all.

Grant was a player, pretending at understanding the world of shadows.

Dexter was the real deal.

Dexter moaned loudly as he pulled himself up to his knees. He was only dimly aware that he had reached his goal � a broad flat place hidden in the heart of the mountains. A squat building of indescribable beauty lay before him but his eyes were so caked with ice and snow that he could barely see it. Every breath felt like it might be his last.

Rough-hewn hands grabbed him about the shoulders, dragging him through the snow. He felt warmth envelope him � he was near a fire and furs were being piled against his shivering body. A voice came to him as if from a great distance.

�Sleep,� a man said in the language used by most of the Tibetans that Dexter had encountered. �Use your strength for what is to come.�

�Tenzin,� Dexter whispered, the word barely audible. He had mastered the local tongue and spoke it fluently. �Tenzin.�

A weathered face stared down at him, an inscrutable smile etched upon it. �That is my name,� the old man said. �You came here to find me.�

�Yes.�

�I will help you recover and then we will discover if you are worthy of my aid. But before I can do that, I must ask you one question and you must answer it truthfully.�

�Anything�.�

�Do you wish to live?�

Dexter�s screams went on until his tortured throat would no longer make a sound. He still screamed, though no one outside of his own mind could hear him.

Waking up in a tiny hole in the ground, alone with the darkness, he had been forced to live with that most terrible of monsters � himself. After what seemed to be an eternity, he had been hauled out into the light. He had squinted in pain and terror, wondering what Hell he had stumbled into.

He had slowly regained his strength under the Tibetan monks� rough care but on the sixth day since he had emerged from the hole, he had awakened to find himself strung upside down from the ceiling. His nude body was bound tightly by string that dug into his soft flesh, drawing tiny beads of blood.

Tenzin had stood there, facing him with a barbed whip in his hands. �Why did you come here, American?�

Frightened, Dexter had struggled against his bonds. Finally exhausted, he had gone limp, the blood making his head pound. �Because,� he croaked at last, �My life is empty. The only time I feel alive is when I�m fighting someone. I want to find the secret to inner peace.�

�Inner peace?� Tenzin said with a mocking tone. �You have no idea how many Westerners have come to my country, seeking some key to their own happiness.� He moved closer, his eyes blazing. �But the answer I give never satisfies them.�

�What is it?� Dexter asked, feeling like he was close to blacking out.

�A man must look into the mirror of his soul and acknowledge his true face. Some can do this through soul-searching or through the validation of his works in life. But for many others, they are too stupid or too frightened to truly see themselves as they are. In those cases, there are only two choices.� Tenzin leaned close, his lips close enough to Dexter�s cheek that they almost brushed the skin. �I can cut you loose and you can flee back to America with your tail between your legs� Or I can show you your true face. The latter involves pain and suffering but in the end, you will know who and what you are. You may be fit to become our champion at that point.�

Dexter didn�t completely understand what he was hearing but he recognized the implication and didn�t like it. �I�m not a coward,� he hissed. �Maybe you don�t understand what I�m talking about� but there�s an emptiness inside me and I can�t stand it! I need to find out what�s missing from my life!�

Tenzin�s expression softened and for a brief moment, he almost looked sympathetic. Then it hardened again and a shiver of fear ran down Dexter�s spine. �So be it.�

The old man took a few steps back and struck with the whip. The weapon tore across Dexter�s chest, raising a red welt. The American�s eyes jolted open with shock and horror. Before he could respond, another lash hit him, followed by another and then another.

The agonies blended together, growing exponentially worse with each passing second.

�What did you see in that hole?� Tenzin demanded to know. �That face you see in the darkness is your own!�

Days blended into nights, which became weeks and then months. Dexter was kept starved and in perpetual pain, weakening his will to live. And yet, whenever Tenzin would ask him if he was ready to surrender, he would refuse. No matter how bloodied or bruised his body, his spirit was never broken.

Huddled in a corner, shackled, Dexter�s world now consisted of a phantom haze. Half asleep and never quite sure of what was real or not, his consciousness would only be spiked by periodic bursts of agonizing pain.

All concept of time had been lost in a seemingly never-ending series of torments. His feet ached from the flame that had been put to them hours ago and his back ached from a brutal beating the previous night.

Dexter thought of his family, of beautiful Margo, and the way he�d felt the first time he�d killed a man. The mixture of shame and excitement had been the same as when he�d first ejaculated inside a woman. The dichotomy of that realization forced a barking laugh out of him � one act took away a life and the other could potentially give it.

You�re a murderer, the voice in his head often shouted. You get off on death. You�re no better than the worst of criminals.

�Shut up,� Dexter murmured.

Just die. That�s the best thing for you. Just die and stop making things difficult for those around you. What kind of life can you give Margo? She�d put up with your madness because that�s who she is but every day you�d be slowly killing her, choking the life out of her.

A new voice spoke up then, piercing the veil of blackness that surrounded Dexter�s mind. It sounded confident and strong � and familiar. �You need to begin anew, Dexter. You�ve got to stop hanging on to this notion of who you think you ought to be. Embrace your true self and revel in it. So what if you kill people? There are some people who deserve to die! The innocent are preyed upon every day and they are too soft to defend themselves. To kill a monster, you must become a monster. You�ll never grow to your full strength until you pass through the gates of death and emerge on the other side.�

�Who are you?� Dexter asked aloud, his cracked lips splitting as he spoke. Tiny rivulets of blood dripped down his chin.

A skull-like visage appeared suddenly, startling in its simplicity. This was a face that he recognized, deep in his core. This was his true face, the one hidden from everyone else in the world, seen only by its owner as he passed from one world to the next. It was stripped of flesh just as he was now stripped of all pretenses.

�I am The Darkling,� the face said. �I am Dexter Welles. I am you.�

The mask felt good, like a second skin. In fact, it felt like for the first time in his life, Dexter Welles was showing what had always been lurking inside.

He crept through the mountains with all the stealth of a jungle cat. It was a cold day but despite the fact that he wore nothing save a mask, he felt no discomfort. What was a minor triviality like temperature to a man who had seen death and come back from its welcoming embrace? Dexter Welles had died under Tenzin�s care� and something else had been reborn.

Down below, he caught sight of his prey. It was the old man, moving cautiously through the underbrush. This was a game they�d begun playing as of late � testing of the skills that Tenzin had been imparting to his prot�g�. The tortures were a thing of the past, replaced by grueling physical and mental training. Dexter had learned to confuse the minds of men, twisting their perceptions so that he could sometimes seem to be invisible to their gaze. He had also mastered dozens of fighting styles and improved his marksmanship immeasurably.

Tenzin paused, sniffing the air. It was then that Dexter struck � throwing himself off the edge of the cliff. He landed atop Tenzin�s back, sending the man tumbling to the ground. Four quick punches elicited gasps of surprised pain from the old man but it was Dexter�s next action that ended the battle. He drove his knee into his mentor�s chest and then grabbed hold of Tenzin�s ears, forcefully twisting the man�s head to the side. One more quick pull and he�d have snapped Tenzin�s neck.

�Yield,� he demanded, exerting more pressure.

�Or what?� Tenzin hissed.

�I�ll kill you.� The words were spoken so matter-of-factly that there was no doubting their veracity.

Tenzin stared at him for a moment and whispered, �You have won. I yield to you.�

Dexter stood up, helping the old man to his feet. �You said that when I defeated you, you�d share your last secrets with me.�

�And I shall keep my word. But tell me, what will you do now that you have no more to learn at my side?�

�Return to America, I suppose. Become this champion that you spoke of.�

�And what do you think you should do, to fight the rising tide of evil?�

Dexter looked up at the sky and said nothing for a moment. When he did speak, he said, �When I came here, there was this emptiness inside me. It�s not there anymore. I filled it up with something else�a sort of dark passenger that was always there but I never allowed him an open role in my actions. I was blinded by a false sense of morality that led me to resist his directions. Now I know that he�s not a bad thing at all� in fact, I suspect he�s my reason for existing in the first place. I�m here to hunt down the predators in our world and put them in Hell.�

�I find it curious that you speak of killing criminals first and foremost � surely the urge to protect the innocent is your driving force?� Tenzin�s expression as he asked this question made it quite clear that he knew what Dexter would answer � and that he wasn�t entirely satisfied with the response.

�That�s a benefit, of course. It allows me to do what I must and still contribute to society.�

Tenzin turned away, his voice dripping with disdain. �I do not train killers.�

�Don�t take the moral high ground with me,� Dexter retorted. �You torture men, killing some and turning the rest into hardened fighters.�

�I wonder if you have understood my lessons at all,� Tenzin said wearily. �I have taught you to stare into the face of death and see your own soul reflected back at you. I wanted to create a man who would drive back the darkness by staring it down and then blinding it with the light of Life itself. But you plan to leave here and become a killer.�

�Master, it�s you who have been blind.� When Tenzin turned to look at him again, Dexter smiled without warmth. �I was already a killer. You just pointed me in the right direction.�

�It is here that I keep the last of our knowledge.� Tenzin stood outside an iron door, Dexter at his side. �These things are sacred to us. They come from another place, another time. Their meaning is not yet known to my people.�

Dexter stared at the barrier and its complex lock. �How valuable can knowledge be if you don�t comprehend it?�

�An excellent question. The importance of these things is undeniable � it�s simply a matter of waiting for the truth to be revealed.� Tenzin slipped a hand into his garment and retrieved a small brass key. He slid it into the slot and twisted it, pulling it first to the left and then up, finally completing the process with a hard yank to the right. Dexter could hear the tumblers clicking into place and the door then swung open with a deep groan.

Dexter followed his master into the small room, which was lined with shelves. Many of the things here were far from mysterious � they were weapons of all kinds, including a large canister of mustard gas that gave Dexter an involuntary case of shivers. He well remembered the horrors of chemical warfare from The Great War.

There were also a number of pieces of art that would have been priceless treasures to museums around the world. Dexter recognized several of them as being items that were considered lost to the world � and he knew that Tenzin�s hidden chamber would make him quite a target for thieves if the truth about its contents ever got out.

None of these were what Tenzin wanted to show him, however. Instead, the old man walked to a stone tablet that rested alone on a high shelf. He pulled it down and held it out to Dexter, who examined its surface in confusion.

Printed on it was the same set of words, repeated three times � once in English, once in French and once in German. The words were: Death clings to this man like a funeral shroud. All who follow him shall know suffering. They will die alone and unloved. That will be the fate of Lazarus Gray and his Assistance Unlimited.

�I don�t understand,� Dexter said after a moment. �Who is Lazarus Gray? What is Assistance Unlimited?�

�Those are questions that many men have wondered. This tablet is thousands of years old.� Tenzin placed a hand on Dexter�s shoulder. �In the 18th Century, a man named Johann Adam Wishhaupt adopted the title of Lazarus Gray. He was the founder of a group that came to be known as The Illuminati. He seems to have originated the identity, taking the word Lazarus because it symbolized rebirth and Gray because it fit with his moral ambiguity.�

�But he couldn�t have originated the name,� Dexter pointed out. �Not if this tablet is as old as you say. He must have seen or heard of this� that�s not a name that someone would stumble on to.�

�I concur,� Tenzin said. �I think that you will eventually learn what all of this means.�

�What do you mean?�

�Sometimes my dreams seem to have meaning. The day before you arrived, I had a vision of a man coming to my home, his fingertips dripping with blood. His face was a blank slate, with no defining features. He stood before me and begged me to fill in the empty place that was his soul.� Tenzin smiled coolly. �And then there you were.�

Dexter looked back at the stone tablet, tracing the letters on its surface with his fingertips. �And you had a dream about me and this� Lazarus Gray?�

�I saw you standing beside him in a very tense manner. I have no idea if you were friends or foes.�

Dexter handed the tablet back to Tenzin. �I have to confess that I�m disappointed. I was expecting a lot more from this hidden storehouse of knowledge.�

�Sometimes it is not the knowledge itself that is useful but rather, what you do with it.�

�I don�t like this, Lefty. Not one little bit.� Matches Malone lit a cigarette with trembling fingers. He was a tough guy, one of the roughest in Manhattan, but you wouldn�t know it from his demeanor at the moment.

Lefty Johnson grunted but said nothing. He was chewing on a toothpick, worrying between his canines. The two men were key players in the alcohol running business that had been increasingly booming since Prohibition had been instituted back in �19. Public sentiment had been turning against Prohibition for some time and the Democratic Party had even included a plank in their Party�s Platform swearing to repeal it. But for now, it was still the law of the land, leading to tidy profits for the likes of Lefty and Matches.

They were presently waiting outside a small warehouse, anticipating the arrival of a truck loaded with booze smuggled into the country from Canada.

Matches shifted his weight from foot to foot. �They�re late.�

�So they�re late,� Lefty said at last. �Don�t mean nothin�.�

�What if The Darkling got them?� Matches asked, hissing out the words through clenched teeth.

�There ain�t no such person!� Left said hotly. �So stop your worryin�!�

A voice from his left said, �You boys should have listened to the stories. The streets aren�t safe for criminals anymore.�

Lefty whirled about but saw nothing. �What the hell?�

Matches tossed down his cigarette and reached inside his coat for his pistol. �Is there somebody out there?�

Suddenly, he was there.

He stood six feet tall, with a long overcoat that was buttoned down the front. His shoulders were slightly stooped, making Matches think of his own grandfather, bent with age. A fedora hat was perched low on the Darkling�s head and his face was hidden beneath a white cloth mask that was painted to resemble a skull.

Lefty stared in disbelief. He�d laughed at the stories that described the man � how could anybody be scared of a guy in a Halloween costume? But now that he was faced with the real thing, Lefty realized that his bladder felt dangerously weak.

The Darkling held a pistol in each hand and Matches, something of a gun nut, recognized the make of them: Smith & Wesson Hand Ejector IIs. The revolver had been introduced a few years before The Great War. Chambered for .45 caliber rounds, the Hand Ejector II normally had a five or six inch barrel but Darkling�s guns had modified barrels that had been cut down to four inches in length.

Lefty moved quickly, trying to throw a roundhouse punch. The Darkling evaded the blow, grabbing hold of the criminal�s arm and twisting it so savagely that it popped loudly. The Darkling then placed a pistol to the side of the man�s head and pulled the trigger.

Matches screamed in terror. He squeezed off two quick bullets and then took off at a sprint, not even bothering to see if his shots had hit their intended target.

He had run no more than a hundred feet before he skidded to a stop, staring in disbelief as The Darkling barred his path. �You aren�t human,� he gasped. �You�re some sort of spook!�

�Close, mongrel, but not quite.� The Darkling pistol-whipped Matches, knocking him to the ground. �You saw me kill your friend?�

Matches nodded, a stunned expression on his face.

�Good. I�m willing to let you live but you�ll have to give me some information first. Do we have a deal?�

Matches found himself staring into the skull-like mask with wide, frightened eyes. He�d killed over a dozen men in his time and wounded many more. But now he felt like a scared little kid facing down the biggest bully on the playground. �What do you want to know?� he asked, surprising himself that he was even able to speak rationally.

�I want names and addresses, Malone. I want to know who you work for and how dirty their fingers really are.�

�It�s just booze�.�

�Don�t feed me any lines!� Matches flinched at the fury in The Darkling�s voice. �The people you work for are into prostitution, drugs and wholesale murder. Alcohol is just another revenue stream for them.�

�McCauley!� Matches squawked. �He�s the big boss. Everybody else answers to him.�

The Darkling knelt beside his prey and grabbed hold of the man�s collar. �Where can I find him?�

�Over on Park Avenue. He�s got a big brownstone there, it�s all his!�

�How many goons does he keep there?�

�I don�t know� five or six? I swear, I�m not sure!�

�I believe you.� The Darkling cocked his pistol and placed it between Malone�s eyes.

�Wait! You said you�d let me live!�

�Rebecca Stiles. Remember her?�

Matches blinked in surprise. He did remember her, though he hadn�t thought of her in years. She had been a hot little number he�d met back in Chicago. They�d gone out a few times before he�d caught her spreading her legs for another fella. He�d taught her a lesson and then moved on.

�I can see from the look in your eyes that you do,� The Darkling continued. �Did you know she was pregnant when you beat her up? That might have been your child she lost, Matches. In the end, it doesn�t matter, though. You did such a number on her that her insides never worked right again. She finally killed herself, cursing your name as she did so.�

Matches swallowed hard. �Wait� did you know her or something? �Cause I never meant to do anything permanent to her!�

The Darkling chuckled but there was no warmth or humor in that blood-chilling sound. �I never met her, Matches. Not even once. But I don�t think you have to know someone to feel empathy for them. For instance, I knew even before I met you tonight that you were scum.�

�You said��

�I lied. It�s the least of my sins, believe me.�

Earl Washington had been born in Atlanta but he�d moved to Harlem just before the Stock Market Crash of �29, hoping to find a career in jazz. He was a talented trumpeter and could wail with the best of them. But things hadn�t worked out and he�d found himself in one dead-end job after another. Now, he was on the streets, having been tossed out of his last apartment� and he had no prospects for anything better in the future. Life was hard enough for a black man but add all the trouble Earl had experienced on top of that and you had a situation that had nearly broken him.

He stood on the edge of the Brooklyn Bridge, staring down into the icy waters below. All it would take was one step and then it would be over� assuming the stories were right and he�d actually be dead before he even hit the water. Somehow, he wasn�t sure about that and the fear of a frantic, screaming death in the water was all that stopped him from taking the leap.

�Is this really what kind of man you are? The sort who gives up when the going gets tough?�

Earl jumped in surprise and his action almost caused him to slip and tumble off his perch. He clutched on to the bridge and looked around, seeing no one. �Who�s there?�

�Just an interested observer. Nice reflexes, by the way. Any slower and you might have fallen.�

Earl scanned his surroundings but the gloomy fog was too thick for him to see anyone. �Very funny, mister.�

The voice suddenly came from right beside him. �No one�s ever accused me of being a comedian.�

Earl swore under his breath as the man�s face came into view. Hidden beneath a skull-like mask, The Darkling was a terrifying figure to behold. To his credit, Earl didn�t shrink from the menacing figure. He drew himself up to his not-insubstantial full height. �I�ve heard about you. You�re the one they call The Darkling. You killed Boss McCauley, didn�t you?�

�Among many others.� The Darkling looked down at the water below. �Why are you really here, Earl Washington?�

�How do you know my name?�

�Believe it or not, I�ve seen you play. You�re good. Too good to waste your talent through suicide.�

Earl grinned, despite the strange situation. �I�m pretty sure I�d have seen you out in the crowd, especially with a face like that!�

�You didn�t answer my question.�

Earl�s smile faded and he shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat. �Life ain�t working out, that�s all. I�m broke. Got no place to go. I just feel� hollow.�

The Darkling surprised Earl by reaching out and taking his arm by the elbow. �I�ve seen the passion for life when you play your music. You�re not empty inside� believe me, I�d recognize it if you were. Come with me and I�ll show you the truth about this world. I�ll show you who you really are. And if you come through on the other side with your sanity intact, you�ll find a purpose in life.�

Earl found himself strangely attracted by the mad words of the masked man. �Doing what?�

�Helping me.�

�Killing people?�

�If they need killing, yes. But I help people, too.�

�But� why me? I ain�t nobody special.�

�I disagree. I�ve learned to trust my intuition, Earl� and when I saw you standing here on this bridge, I didn�t see a quitter. I saw a warrior who had lost his way. I know more than a little bit about that myself.�

Earl hesitated but he realized that his only two choices involved finishing what he�d set out to do� or taking this Darkling character up on his offer. What did he have to lose? �I�m in. You have a car around here somewhere?�

�Better.� The Darkling held up a hand and a rope ladder dropped into his grip. Earl looked up, his eyes widening. Floating high above, moving through the clouds, was a perfectly silent zeppelin. �You�re not afraid of heights, are you?�

�Mr. Grant? You ready to go to the club?�

Harold Grant sat back in his chair, staring at the face in the mirror. It wasn�t his but it was one that he�d worn so often that it could have been. �It feels good to be back in the city, Earl.�

�I�ve missed you,� the former jazz musician replied earnestly. �And Manhattan has, too. The criminals have started to drift out of their holes.�

Grant stood up and pulled on his overcoat. He looked dashing in a black tie and a well-tailored suit, his somewhat hawk-like nose giving him a memorable profile. The nose and hairpiece were part of a makeup job that would have been the envy of any in Hollywood. Earl, in fact, had never seen his true face, which was now scarred from his long-running war on crime.

Several months ago, he had taken Jakob Sporrenberg under his wing, helping the man transition into a new identity. As Eidolon, Sporrenberg had worked with The Darkling briefly before both of them had ended up confronting Lazarus Gray once more. The battle had ended with Eidolon escaping, while The Darkling and Abigail Cross had been stranded far from home. Their battle had ended with Cross dead and The Darkling badly wounded. It had taken him some time to return home and heal from his injuries.

The strange prophecy that he�d learned about from Tenzin still haunted him, all the more so now that he�d met Gray on several occasions. The man was far from evil � in fact, his own strange rebirth provided eerie similarities to The Darkling�s own past. But the prophecy, written so long ago, indicated that all of Assistance Unlimited was headed toward the same fate as Abigail Cross. Did Lazarus know about all of this? Should The Darkling tell him? Given the contentious relationship they�d shared, The Darkling wasn�t sure that Lazarus would believe him.

�Are you feeling all right?� Earl asked, concern making his Southern drawl sound even slower than usual.

�I�m fine,� The Darkling answered in Grant�s usual lazy tone. With the placid smile of a member of the idle rich, he breezed past Earl and headed for the front door. His relaxed manner faded quickly, however, with the realization that a small envelope was resting on the stoop.

Kneeling down to pluck up the missive, Grant scanned the grounds and saw no one. It was early evening but the skies were clear, allowing the moonlight to provide ample illumination. After looking at the unmarked envelope and making sure there was no clue as to who had left it, Grant turned to Earl and asked, �Did you know about this?�

The look on Earl�s face made it clear that he did not.

Carrying the envelope back into the house, Grant said, �Go outside and warm up the car. I�ll be along in a moment.� Stopping Earl with a touch of his hand, he added, �And be careful. It�s possible that we�re being watched.�

Earl nodded, adjusting the concealed weapon that he was carrying under his jacket. The aide had undergone extensive training for his position with The Darkling and he was capable of handling most dangers, though he would never equal his employer in that regard. �If you hear me scream in terror,� he said in jest, �I hope you�ll come running.�

�If I hear you screaming, I�ll know to head in the other direction. You�re not easily frightened.� Grant ignored Earl�s laughter, choosing instead to examine the envelope more closely under the light of a desk lamp. There were no fingerprints that could be easily seen and no suspicious powders.

Given the fact that few people would have the audacity to climb the wrought-iron fence that surrounded the property, Grant was still certain that there was something unusual at play.

Finally satisfied that he had missed nothing, Grant ripped open the envelope and dumped out a neatly folded slip of paper. The handwriting was distinctively feminine and very easy to read. His eyes scanned the written words and for one of the few times in his life, The Darkling found himself completely taken aback:

�I don�t believe it,� he whispered aloud. He thought back to their battle in the swamp � the girl was a witch, capable of channeling arcane energies in a way that defied rational description. In the end, however, his mental training and fighting skills had proven too much for her. She wasn�t a killer at heart and that made her weaker than The Darkling. He�d left her lying facedown in the murky waters, half a dozen bullets lodged in her chest.

Could she have somehow resurrected herself? Was her magic power that strong?

Perhaps, he considered, it was this mysterious �friend in red� who had revived her, if indeed she still lived and this wasn�t some clever ruse. He wasn�t overly concerned that they knew about his multiple identities. Other people had uncovered them before and a few of them were even still among the living.

Or� was this perhaps some sort of cry for help?

That last thought seemed to come out of nowhere but The Darkling had long ago learned to trust his hunches. Often, the subconscious saw connections between things that were invisible to the rational mind.

Sending this letter was bound to provoke the opposite response to the one that Abby said she wanted. By telling him to stay out of Sovereign, she was actually providing a written invitation.

The Darkling folded the letter and slid it into the inside pocket of his coat. He had plans for the evening that he didn�t want to change� but come the morning, he would be paying a visit to Lazarus Gray once more.

The world was alive around him. It pulsed and throbbed with the green life of the jungle. Even the sunlight that broke through the branches seemed tinged with emerald. The blood that oozed from the wound on his left arm was cast in this strange lighting, giving it a sickly hue.

Yellow-green insects swarmed about the gash, their numbers seeming to increase with each passing second. Ronnie Tollin cursed under his breath, hating the sweat that caused his clothing to stick to his body. His ample belly heaved as he slowed to a stop.

He turned around and saw thick black clouds of smoke drifting into the sky. Several hundred yards away, the remains of his helicopter were now in flames. The burning petrol would continue lighting up the sky for several hours to come, he knew, meaning that he had to get away from here. As it was, it was a matter of time before they found him�.

Overhead, a small copter zoomed past, moving first toward the smoking wreckage and then beginning a turn that would lead it back toward where Ronnie was standing.

With a snarl of rage, Ronnie started running again. He wasn�t built for this kind of thing and it showed. He moved like he was churning his legs through molasses and before he�d gone another twenty feet, he was down on his knees, gasping for air.

Now that he was stationary, the insects were all over him. They concentrated on his bloody arm but dozens of them buzzed around his face, momentarily blinding him. He swatted at them and spat as some of them ended up in his mouth.

The grasses began to whip all around him and the insects scattered. Looking up, Ronnie shielded his eyes with one hand, staring up into the underside of his pursuer�s helicopter. The copter was very low, just above the tree line and Ronnie gasped as he saw a figure launch himself out of the aircraft.

The man was either incredibly foolish or impossibly brave � or both. He landed with a practiced roll, as if he�d been trained as an Olympic-level gymnast. Springing up to his feet, the man stared at Ronnie with an expression of disdain.

The man stood tall and lean, with broad shoulders. He wore a holster across his chest, a pistol strapped in. His short-sleeved shirt strained in an attempt to contain his massive chest and brawny biceps. The tie he wore was being tossed about by the winds, which slowly died away as the helicopter lifted up and moved away.

Ronnie wasn�t sure how old this man really was � his face was youthful but his hair contained more gray than brown, giving the impression that he was older than he probably was. The man�s eyes were mismatched � one of them being a dull earthen-brown while the other was a startling shade of green.

This was Lazarus Gray, world famous leader of Assistance Unlimited. His name was enough to send most criminals into paroxysms of fear and Ronnie was no different. He opened and closed his mouth several times before he found the courage to actually speak. �It got loose,� he muttered. �It�s out there somewhere.�

Lazarus snatched out a hand and grabbed hold of Ronnie�s hair. He pulled the bleeding man closer, throwing a snarl into his voice. �I�m going to hold you responsible for each and every death that may result from this. Do you understand me?�

Ronnie groaned in fear and pain. �It�s just business, Gray! Just business!�

Lazarus heard the snapping of a twig and he threw Ronnie to the ground. He spun about, drawing his pistol from its holster and holding it at the ready. He saw nothing at first but he could tell that it was out there, watching him. He could smell it�.

Assistance Unlimited had been hired by an aging Jewish scientist named Earnest Goldstein. According to the stooped scientist, he had managed to create an artificial life form that fed upon refuse. His hope was that it would prove a cure for an increasingly terrible problem in urban environments: the proliferation of garbage. These new creatures would feast upon the trash left behind by man, growing ever larger as a result. Their life spans were supposed to be short, ensuring that they would never become a threat.

Unfortunately, Goldstein�s lips were a bit loose when he talked about his creation and its potential dangers � if left unchecked, the creatures would continue to voraciously feed on anything it came into contact with, growing stronger in the process. His dire prophecies attracted the attention of agents of the German government, who had stepped in to steal the scientist�s creation.

Now fully weaponized, with no natural lifespan, the creatures were grown in a hidden lab in America and were to be tested in the remote jungles of Africa, where the Nazis felt the �subhuman� populace could prove to be a good judge for the monsters� effectiveness as weapons.

Gray and his friends in Assistance Unlimited had trailed the Nazis all the way here, where they�d found Ronnie in their employ. The local scientific labs where the creatures had been housed were now in ruins but Ronnie had taken off with the last of the monsters in tow, hoping to eventually sell it to another bidder.

�Don�t move,� Lazarus said through clenched teeth.

Ronnie swallowed and gave a silent nod. He, too, could smell the overpowering stench of the monster. He�d seen what it could do to a human being and he had no desire to experience it firsthand.

The bushes began to shudder and a thing emerged, looking like some sort of bloated, mammoth-sized worm. At the front, tapered end was a sucking maw filled with razor-sharp teeth. Its skin was doughy and mottled, with thick bristle-like hairs extending out along the sides. Tiny little arms ended up in claw-like hands, which snapped at the air in near-perfect unison with the gasping of its awful mouth.

The monster�s undulating movements made Lazarus think of some of the larger pythons that he had seen. The odor was the worst, however. The creature�s scent was far beyond that of rotting vegetation or a decaying animal � it was like something from a terrible nightmare, the most revolting odor that could be imagined.

Lazarus tensed as the great worm reared up, releasing a roar that shook the earth. He fired three bullets into its midsection but the bullets vanished in the corpse-like flesh. The only signs that they�d even hit their target was a thin trickle of greenish-yellow fluid that streamed down its belly.

The worm lunged forward and Lazarus jumped out of the way. He landed in a rolling tumble, coming back up in a crouch. Ronnie wasn�t nearly so lucky � the greedy pilot screamed in horror as the worm�s mouth struck at him. Its teeth tore at his flesh and a tremendous suction yanked him deeper into the maw.

It was already too late for Lazarus to do anything to save the man. The forces surrounding the criminal were shattering Ronnie�s bones and his skin was sizzling as the worm�s stomach acids covered him. Within seconds, the man�s screaming ceased � the amazing power of the worm was to decompose and absorb trash in rapid amounts, skills that were now put to the human garbage that had been named Ronnie Tollin.

Lazarus holstered his gun, having recognized its uselessness. The creature was growing larger before his very eyes � with the safety mechanisms limiting its lifespan removed, it would continue to feed and grow larger until it threatened all life on the continent and possibly beyond. There were two good things, however, and they gave Lazarus tremendous hope: for one thing, it was sterile and incapable of reproducing. For another, the creatures all suffered from one major weakness: they grew weaker in the presence of extreme heat and could be killed by fire.

�Ugly! Over here!� he yelled, showing the bravado he was famous for. As Richard Winthrop, he�d traveled the globe with The Illuminati, a group obsessed with using the occult to control the lives of innocent men and women. His decision to turn against them had nearly cost him his life, ending with his �death� as Winthrop on the shores of Sovereign City. He�d been �reborn� as Lazarus Gray� a man who neither feared death nor ran away from it.

The monstrous worm turned its bulk toward the shouting man, blood dripping from its maw. Lazarus wasn�t sure if the creature was blind or not � there were no visible eyes, which led him to believe that it tracked through sound or smell, or some combination of the two.

Regardless, it obviously sensed where more potential food might lie and it was at this moment that Lazarus realized that the monster had developed a preference for animal flesh. How else to explain why it didn�t just lumber about, eating at random? Virtually anything should be a food source so why be choosy?

Lazarus pushed such concerns out of his mind. He had a job to do and in the end, it didn�t matter why or how the monster did things. It only had to be destroyed.

To that end, Lazarus reached into a small pouch on his belt and pulled out a grenade. He yanked out the pin and waited until the worm was within reach � then he ran forward, leaping into the air. His right foot made contact with the worm�s body and he used this to push himself up, propelling himself right up in front of the monster�s maw. He then drew back his arm and made like Dizzy Dean � he threw a fastball right into the worm�s gullet.

The creature snapped at him, narrowly missing him as he twisted his body in midair. He tumbled back down, landing hard on his feet and hands.

Lazarus braced himself for another attack, as the great worm raised itself to its full height and emitted another terrifying roar. Before the beast could throw its weight at Lazarus, however, the grenade that was within its belly suddenly exploded. Guts, blood and the half-digested remains of Ronnie Tollin were expelled with tremendous force. Lazarus threw his hands over his head in an attempt to protect himself but he was drenched in the awful stuff, which dripped off his body in sticky clumps.

Standing up, Lazarus shook off his arms but the stench that now clung to him was nauseating. He tossed up the remains of his lunch and then spat several times in a fruitless attempt to regain control of his fortitude.

�I�m not sure we�re going to let you ride in the copter,� a male voice said. �I�m thinking we might have to strap you to the exterior.�

Lazarus glanced over to see his friends approaching through the low-hanging branches and fronds. They were three of the very best. They were capable, brave and loyal � all prime requirements for membership in Assistance Unlimited.

The man who had spoken was Morgan Watts. The elder statesman of the group, he was a former confidence man turned hero, having traded in a life of crime for one of perpetual danger. With his picture-perfect suit and tie, as well as his pencil-thin moustache, he retained the handsome appeal of a rogue. He was only in his forties but he had lived a hard life and after numerous injuries incurred over the past few years, he moved a bit slower than before.

At his side was a pretty young thing named Samantha Grace. With platinum blonde hair and blue eyes, she came from a well-to-do family and was skilled in gymnastics and linguistics, as well as being a crack shot with a pistol. She tended to capture the heart of nearly any man who met her though she hadn�t found Mr. Right just yet. Dressed in khaki slacks and a safari-style shirt, she wore a rifle slung over one shoulder. Samantha had come to be at Lazarus� side after he helped her family overcome the potential scandal resulting from a blackmail scheme.

The final member of the group was a handsome Korean named Eun Jiwon. A master martial artist, Eun possessed a temper that was startling to behold. When criminals threatened the lives of his parents, Eun turned vigilante and ended up crossing paths with Lazarus Gray. Now he had finally found a place that accepted him fully, not caring that he was a foreigner or that he preferred the company of other men as lovers. In return for their trust and acceptance, Eun would gladly die for the other members of the team.

Samantha jokingly held out a handkerchief to Lazarus. �You might want to clean up a bit, Chief.�

Lazarus took the piece of garment and used it to wipe off his face, so that he was no longer blinking away pieces of gore. �That was disgusting.�

Eun wrinkled his nose. �It�s still disgusting. I�m with Morgan. There�s no way you�re allowed in the helicopter.�

With a grunt, Lazarus ignored the jests at his expense. In the early days of their partnership, the others would never have dared poke fun at him. They considered him their employer back then and his stoic exterior did nothing to dissuade them from that. But over time, they�d come to understand that he was truly one of them and a deeper bond had been formed. Now they were more like family.

�Can�t believe anybody would actually want to grow these things,� Morgan said. He was standing next to a particularly large chunk of worm, prodding it gently with the toe of his shoe while hiding his nose beneath the crook of his arm.

�Unfortunately, there will always be those whose desire for power exceeds the boundaries of good sense,� Lazarus said. �Now that this is dealt with, we can head back home.�

Suddenly, every member of the team gave a simultaneous jump of surprise. Each of them carried a small wireless receiver that could receive long-range messages from other such devices. The reason that all of them seemed so confused was the fact that the devices were only passed out to members of Assistance Unlimited.

Lazarus was the first to pick up his communicator, his eyes narrowing at what he saw displayed on the tiny screen. Each and every one of the devices was assigned an identification number. This number was represented whenever a call came in, allowing the receiver to immediately know who was attempting to contact them.

In this case, the number displayed was 5� which was the identifier assigned to Abby Cross.

�It�s her,� he said and everyone around him immediately tensed. All of them had waited with growing dread for some sign of her survival� or her demise. When she�d last been seen, she�d been vanishing into a vortex alongside The Darkling.

�Oh my god,� Samantha whispered. She felt Morgan�s arm go around her shoulder and she allowed herself to be pulled against him. Though Morgan had carried a bright torch for her at one time, they had settled into a big brother-little sister relationship that suited them both. �She must be in trouble � that�s the only time that we�re supposed to send out an All-Call.�

Lazarus said nothing, instead choosing to activate the communicator. He also thumbed up the volume setting so that everyone could hear. �Abby? Are you there?�

The female voice on the other end was recognizably that of the team�s former member, though it was oddly emotionless. �Lazarus, it�s me. I�m in Sovereign.�

�Go to headquarters. We�ll be there soon.�

�Will my key still work?�

�No � but you�ll be able to access one of the safe houses across the street.� Since Assistance Unlimited owned the entire block that contained 6196 Robeson Avenue, Lazarus had turned some of the empty storefronts and businesses into places where guests could be housed or where excess files or items could be stored.

A small burst of static interrupted the transmission and when it faded, Abby was in midsentence. ��left me to die.�

�Repeat that, please?�

�I asked why all of you left me to die. None of you came after me.�

�That�s not true. We looked for you. We�ve never stopped looking for you.�

�The Darkling killed me, Lazarus. Only I didn�t stay dead. Just like you�.�

Lazarus felt the intense stares of his friends. He was certain that they were like him, with the tiny hairs on the nape of his neck beginning to rise. �If you�re dead, how can you be talking to me?�

�I was revived. Not by my own magic� but by his.�

�Whose magic? The Darkling�s?�

�No. But I plan to pay him back for what he�s done eventually.� More static, covering part of her words. ��is here and he�s going to use me to destroy you. And, Goddess help me, I�m not even trying to resist. You sent me off to die, like another of your good little soldiers!�

�That�s not true.�

�You know it is, Lazarus. Just like you know what awaits all the others. They�re all going to die, alone and uncared for.�

A sudden twist of emotion passed over the face of Lazarus Gray, so quick that only Samantha took notice of it.

�Abby!� Lazarus demanded, his voice rising. �Who has done this to you?�

�You�ll find out soon enough,� she said. There was a pause, with the only sound coming from the communicator being the soft hiss of the open line. And then Abby�s words came once more, this time carrying the soft trace of sadness. �I�m sorry, Lazarus.�

The line went dead.

�What the hell was all that?� Eun exclaimed, his natural tendency for anger coming to the fore. �Somebody�s brainwashed her! That�s the only reason she�d be talking that garbage.�

Samantha, her voice much more subdued than Eun�s, pulled away from Morgan and moved closer to Lazarus. �Those things she said to you� That�s the same prophecy that Jakob repeated to Morgan, isn�t it?�

�Yes,� Lazarus admitted. �Eidolon said that they were written on a stone tablet, in multiple languages, and that the tablet was thousands of years old.�

�That still seems impossible!� Samantha blurted out.

�Nothing�s impossible,� Eun said, looking with disgust at the dead worm. �Exhibit A,� he added, gesturing to the beast.

�We should get back,� Lazarus said. He looked pensive, prompting Samantha to take his hand as they walked back to the helicopter. �Remember what we told you when we first learned about this� prophecy? We love you, Lazarus. We�re with you til the end, no matter what any stone tablet has to say about it. Understand?�

�Thank you, Samantha.�

With a shy smile, Samantha lowered her voice and added, �You really do stink terribly.�

�You did well.� Doctor Satan took the communications device from Abby�s hand and slipped it into the folds of his crimson cloak. He and Abby were standing in an alleyway across the street from 6196 Robeson Avenue, the famous home of Assistance Unlimited. The building to his right was the one that Lazarus has referenced as being a �safe house�.

Abby looked very pale, her long dark hair hanging loosely over one shoulder. In life, she�d been buxom and sensual, with the kind of figure that captivated every man she met. Raised as a witch, she possessed magic of a particularly dangerous kind and she�d quickly found her place amongst Assistance Unlimited.

Since her resurrection, the fire of passion that had burned so brightly in her eyes had been snuffed out.

�I don�t understand why we�re doing this,� she said. �The Darkling�s on his way� and now Lazarus will have his defenses raised. If you really wanted them dead, we should have struck without warning.�

�It�s not enough to simply snuff out your enemies,� he countered. �One must see the fear in their eyes as they realize they are beaten. A flair for the dramatic is never a bad thing, my dear.�� He reached out and caressed her face, which brought a soft shudder to her frame. Even in her dampened-emotional state, she was still repulsed by this man. �Take one last look at your former home, Abby. The next time you see it, it�s going to be in flames.�

Doctor Satan turned away, not seeing the solitary tear that escaped from Abby�s left eye, forming a glistening trail down her cheek.

�The feathered serpent is lurching to the left, it is injured and dying.� The high-pitched voice sounded quite strange coming from the throat of a bloated man with a comb-over but no one at the s�ance table seemed the least bit put out. In fact, all save one of those in attendance were staring with rapt attention. �You must divest yourself of any dealings with the feathered serpent,� the medium continued, his body beginning to shake with the exertions of communing with the dead.

There was a sudden flash of light and smoke in the middle of the table and the candle, which had illuminated the strange scene, went out. A woman screamed and there was a mad rush to reach the lights. When the room was brightly lit, all eyes turned to the portly figure of Hal Miller, the so-called Sovereign City Medium. Miller was dabbing at his forehead with a handkerchief, his eyes wide and confused.

The medium saw that the men and women around him all seemed to be wrought with concern, save for one: a hawk-faced gentleman that was new to the circle. Miller allowed strangers to sit in on his sessions, knowing that a good show would invariably net him another client. But something in this man�s manner set off alarm bells in Miller�s head: the man wore a starched white shirt with a dark suit and tie. His hair was severely swept back and his eyes were narrowed and focused, like those of a hunting cat.

�Are you okay, Mr. Miller?� one of the women asked. It was Mrs. Davidson, whose husband had died the previous fall, leaving her and her millions without financial guidance.

Miller tore his eyes away from the hawk-faced man. �I�m fine, thank you. The spirit�s words were gibberish to me. Did you understand them? I think they were intended for you.�

�They did!� she exclaimed, clutching at Miller�s arm. She kneaded it like bread dough. �Before he died, my husband invested heavily in Quetzalcoatl Industries but the business has begun moving to more liberal policies and I wasn�t sure if I should sell off our stock. Now I know! Thank you so much, Mr. Miller! Your powers are a gift from God!�

Miller smiled in reply and gently extricated himself from her embrace. Raising his voice, he addressed the entire room, keeping his eyes away from the hawk-faced man. �I�m afraid that�s going to be the end of the s�ance for tonight. I�m physically exhausted and it�s never good to push the spirits when they have made a display of power.�

The regulars seemed both disappointed that the show was over and excited by what they had seen. Miller stood up, intending to leave the room, but he found his path blocked by the mysterious stranger. The man�s eyes bore into his own with an almost predatory gleam.

�A fascinating display,� the man said with a smile. His face had relaxed into an amiable expression but there was no good humor in those eyes and Miller remained on edge. �I�ve never seen anything like it.�

�Well, thank you, Mister-?�

�Grant. Harold Grant.�

Miller�s eyes widened. Grant was one of the wealthiest men in the world and his jet-setting adventures were legendary. Despite his earlier concerns, Miller found himself warming to the conversation, dollar signs dancing in his eyes. �You have an interest in the occult, Mr. Grant?�

�Actually, yes. I spent some time in the Orient after the War and I developed a fascination with the supernatural. Some of my friends consider it a silly thing, reading up on ghosts and spirits� but the world is far stranger than many would ever care to admit.�

Miller licked his lips in anticipation. �If you have anyone on the other side that you would like me to contact on your behalf� I could certainly do a special session for you.�

�I�d like that,� Grant answered. He leaned close and Miller thought he smelled a peculiar odor on the man�s breath: something a bit reminiscent of cinnamon. It made his head spin and Miller tried to draw back but Grant�s hand was holding his arm tightly. �In particular, I�d like you to see if you could summon the spirit of a young woman named Delores Mycroft. Do you think you might be able to do that? Given your shared history, it should be easy, I would think.�

Miller stared at the man�s smile and his cold, cold eyes� and he swallowed hard. He had hoped to never hear that name again but now it was there, floating between them like a corpse in water.

The world began to spin faster, the scent of cinnamon intensifying� and then Miller was falling into a deep, dark hole.

He awoke with a start, fear making his heart pound in his chest. Miller was bound to a chair in a darkened room of his apartment. He could scarcely see more than a few inches in front of him but he was positive that he wasn�t alone. �Grant? Is that you? What�s going on?�

�Harold Grant isn�t here,� a wickedly mocking voice replied. �He had better things to do with his time than spend it with a murderer.�

�I� I don�t know what you�re talking about.� Miller felt warmth spread through his groin and the scent of his own urine was shameful to him.

A figure emerged from the darkness, wearing a long coat and hat. His face was hidden beneath a skull mask and he held a Hand Ejector II in each gloved hand. �Don�t lie to me,� he hissed and the fury in his tone made Miller whimper.

Miller hung his head, remembering the way the girl had shuddered as he�d held her body under the water. Her eyes had remained open the whole time, staring at him accusatorily. �That was a long time ago,� he whispered.

�And yet the crime still stains your soul,� The Darkling replied. He placed the barrel of a gun to the murderer�s head. �Look at me,� he commanded and Miller did so. �You�re going to die tonight but there�s two ways we can go about this. I can end your miserable life quickly or I can draw it out so that you lose your voice from screaming. Which would you prefer?�

Miller sniffled, not wanting to answer. When he felt The Darkling push the gun harder against him, he wailed, �Quick! Make it quick!�

�I�ll do that,� The Darkling said, removing the gun. �But you have to give me what I want.�

�Anything you want! Do you want money? I have plenty of that. There�s even a safe in my apartment that�s filled with diamonds and jewelry � gifts from my clients! You can have it all!�

�I don�t want your money.� The Darkling holstered his guns and reached inside his coat, bringing forth a photograph that he held close to Miller�s face. �Recognize her?�

Miller squinted. �It�s too dark. I can�t see.�

The Darkling set the photograph atop Miller�s head while he struck a match. He held the flame next to Miller�s cheek and stuck the picture back in front of him. �Try it now.�

Miller flinched away from the fire, his eyes shifting back and forth across the photograph. It showed a young woman, buxom and beautiful. Her dark hair was pulled over one shoulder and her eyes stared brazenly into the camera. �I� I do know her!� Miller stammered. �Abigail� something. I don�t remember. I met her at some of the Phantom Society meetings.�

The Darkling nodded slowly. The Phantom Society was something of a magician�s guild, with clubs located in most major American cities. While most people saw them as havens for sleight-of-hand aficionados, quite a few genuine magic users frequented the meetings. The Darkling had suspected that Abigail would have been to at least one of them and that she may have come into contact with Miller.

�When was the last time you saw her?�

�Just over a week ago. She�d been absent for quite a while� then there she was, with some creepy guy in tow. He wore a black suit and looked like an undertaker.�

�His name?�

Miller struggled with the memory and then his eyes widened as it came to him. �Scratch! He was Mr. Scratch. I remember because I thought it was some sort of joke� that�s another name for the devil, you know?�

�So I�ve heard.�

�She was different than she used to be,� Miller continued, the words coming quickly to his lips. He seemed excited that he was able to contribute something now, something that might make him too useful to kill. �Her skin was paler and she seemed kind of� quiet. Distant. I can�t really describe it. She was still beautiful but some of the sexiness was gone, if you know what I mean.�

�Do you know where I can find her?�

�She was mixed up with Assistance Unlimited for a while � that�s why I used to steer clear of her. But nobody�s seen her with them in a long time.�

�So you�re saying you don�t know where she�s at?�

Miller heard the warning tone in The Darkling�s voice and he quickly backpedaled. �No, no! I didn�t say that at all! I know where Scratch is staying. I heard him say that he had a room at the Lovecraft Hotel. If they�re pals or maybe even an item� you might find her there.� Miller�s voice took on a level of excitement again. �I even know what business Scratch has in the city. He was asking questions about a diamond � the Devil�s Eyepiece. It�s a sapphire that�s rumored to be in town and up for sale but I don�t track such things enough to know who has it.�

The Darkling nodded and snuffed out the match, plunging the room back into darkness. �You did well, Miller.�

�Are you� are you going to let me live?�

�Of course not. But I�ll keep my word. It�ll be quick.�

It was as Harold Grant that The Darkling emerged from the apartment building, nodding at the doorman as he passed. He was unconcerned about being connected to the murder of the man upstairs � Grant was one of many who had arrived earlier and there would be nothing to suggest that he had stayed behind after the others had left. Using his ability to confuse the minds of men, Grant had obscured enough of his features upon exiting that the doorman would never be able to pick him out of a lineup.

As he approached the car that was parked at the end of the street, he suddenly began to slow his movements. Something was wrong � Earl was supposed to be behind the wheel and he always gave an all-clear signal when he saw his master approaching. This generally consisted of a quick flash of light, though they had backup methods if that would attract too much attention.

In this case, however, there was no sign at all.

Keen senses hones by years of living on the edge of danger allowed him to hear and react to the noise to his left. A furtive movement was all that alerted him to the presence of another. He spun about, expertly blocking a kick from Eun Jiwon. The young Korean followed with another punch, this one aimed at The Darkling�s throat but it, too, was parried.

�Give it a rest, Darkling. Or else I�ll put a bullet through the back of your head.�

Grant relaxed his stance, noting the pleased grin on Eun�s face. Without turning, he knew that Morgan Watts was standing behind him, pistol raised. �Your employer would frown upon murder,� he pointed out.

�Lazarus knows how dangerous you are. He�d understand if things went awry.�

�What have you done to Earl?�

�Your driver�s taking a little nap, that�s all.�

�I�m impressed. That couldn�t have been an easy feat to pull off.�

Eun gave a little shrug. �He�s tough but we�ve come across tougher.�

�I bet you have.� The Darkling watched as Morgan moved into his range of vision. He had lowered his gun but held it at his side, ready to use if needed. Seeing the two men side-by-side emphasized their differences: Eun was shorter and stockier, dressed like someone who spent his time alongside dockworkers and the like. Morgan was tall, thin and almost elegant, if not for the cynical cast of his eye. �So what brings you gentlemen here this evening?�

Morgan grunted. �We were gonna ask you the same thing.�

The Darkling had known that he would likely cross paths with one or more of Sovereign�s defenders. If it had been Doc Daye or Fortune McCall, he would have tried to dissuade them from asking too many questions. But with Assistance Unlimited, he knew that wouldn�t work � they were too familiar with his methods. With that in mind, he decided to go for the honest approach. �I received a strange message from Abby Cross. She warned me to stay away from Sovereign while she got her revenge upon all of you. With such a backwards invitation, how could I stay away? I just paid a visit to a fraudulent medium named Hal Miller. He confirmed that Abby was back in the city and in the company of a man named Mr. Scratch.�

Morgan and Eun exchanged an uneasy look. Obviously, neither of them had expected The Darkling to be so forthcoming.

�Now,� The Darkling said, offering up one of Harold Grant�s trademark smiles, �Perhaps you�d care to tell me why you�re here. I�m certain that you didn�t know I was in town before now.�

�You�re right about that,� Morgan conceded. �It wasn�t until we recognized your driver that we had any idea you were mixed up in all this. We thought for a while there that maybe Abby had managed to kill you after all.�

�She came close,� The Darkling replied. �But I came closer. In fact, I would have bet you my entire fortune that she was dead. Appearances can be deceiving, apparently.�

�We think she�s been brought back from the dead. We got a message from her, too, but when we got back to Sovereign, she was nowhere to be seen.� Morgan�s disgust turned his face into something ugly. Reminders that this man before him had killed his friend were making him testy. He gestured toward The Darkling with his pistol. �Did Miller tell you anything else?�

�No,� he lied. �And why are you here?� he asked again.

�We shouldn�t tell him anything,� Eun said. �We should just kick his ass and drag him back to headquarters.�

Morgan looked like he was considering doing just that but eventually he shook his head and said, �We�re following the same trail, just from a different angle. Lazarus and Samantha are at a big jewelry exhibition right now � they�re showing off something called The Devil�s Eyepiece. Heard of it?�

�Not until now.�

�Well, it�s a real beauty. Worth a fortune. A few days ago, its owner, a man named Duncan Moore, came to us and said that he was scared that his life was in danger � a guy named Mr. Scratch wanted to buy The Devil�s Eyepiece before it went on exhibit. This guy figured Scratch didn�t want to compete with other buyers� but he said that something about the deal really set him on edge. While interviewing him, we learned that Scratch had a woman with him � and the way he described her, Lazarus thought it must be Abby. Scratch told Moore to send a message to him via something called The Phantom Society. We�ve all heard about it but we don�t know where they meet and neither does Moore. But we figured Miller might be in the know.�

�So you�re here, trying to trace Scratch, while your employer is providing protection at the exhibit?�

�You�re not as dumb as you look,� Eun said disdainfully.

Morgan frowned slightly. He disliked The Darkling as well, but he still couldn�t find it in himself to be quite as openly rude as Eun. �You need to come back to Robeson Avenue with us,� he said to The Darkling. �Lazarus will want to speak to you.�

The Darkling quickly ran through his options. He was confident that he could defeat these two men, though not without running the risk of being injured. Then he could flee the scene with Earl and continue working the investigation on his own� but to what end? Both he and Lazarus Gray wanted the same thing: to find out what had happened to Abigail Cross. By pooling their resources, the odds would be greatly tilted in their combined favor.

�Lead the way, gentlemen.�

Once again, he sensed that he had surprised them both. Morgan nodded at Eun and said, �You ride with him and his driver. I�ll lead the way in our car.�

Eun grinned, obviously liking the division of duties. If The Darkling tried anything, Eun would be more than glad to try and teach him a lesson.

The exhibit of The Devil�s Eyepiece was regarded as one of the social events of the season. Though very few in attendance could even dream of affording such a jewel, everyone wanted to be seen. The crowd that streamed through the lobby of Walder�s Jewelry Emporium was a heady mix of curious passerbys, well-to-do socialites and collectors of rare gems.

Lazarus Gray would have been present even if he hadn�t taken on the job of providing specialized security for the gem. A millionaire collector of all things unusual, including jewels, Lazarus found the history behind The Devil�s Eyepiece to be fascinating.

First coming to public attention in the mid-1700s, it initially belonged to Rajah Jai Singh and was part of his headdress. Rumors began to circulate almost immediately that the jewel was cursed. Members of the Rajah�s household began to die in mysterious fashion and the local economy took a turn for the worse. The Rajah ordered that one of his men take the gem far away and dispose of it.

That man never returned.

The gem returned to the public eye in 1835 when an Englishman named John Wellington began showing it off in London. Wellington was a collector of rare jewels and fancied himself an occultist. He breathlessly told his friends that there was a drop of demonic blood buried at the heart of the stone. This blood had been gathered from the dying form of Chemosh and it gave the stone certain powers, though at a terrible price.

Wellington�s suicide only further cemented the growing legend.

After his death, The Devil�s Eyepiece passed through a number of hands before apparently vanishing shortly before The Great War. At that time, it was reputedly in the hands of the Kaiser and it was one of his advisors who put down in print for the first time a catalog of the gem�s supposed powers:

The stone takes its name from the demonic images that one can view if they stare through the illuminated sapphire. I have seen these things for myself and they are both powerful and intense� but they are also evil! They show you paths that your future may take, if you will only accomplish certain tasks. The things it wants you to do are too awful to name but it promises you riches and other great rewards if you follow through upon them. I think this stone desires blood and death the way a normal man might covet a lovely woman.

After the fall of the Kaiser, the gem was presumed lost forever � until it ended up in the possession of Duncan Moore. Moore said that he bought it in a lot of jewels sold to him by an African collector. The seller�s past was a mystery and despite Moore giving him a wide range of information about the man, Lazarus had found no trace of him.

�Penny for your thoughts, Lazarus?�

Lazarus turned to look at his companion, the lovely blonde named Samantha Grace. She was wearing a form-fitting green dress adorned by a stunning gold and emerald broach over her right breast. She was slightly bent over, adjusting her stocking, a move that exposed enough leg to cause a minor stir in the room. She was a natural beauty, with a peaches and cream complexion, but at heart she was something of a tomboy. Though she could carry off any kind of feminine attire with aplomb, she was more at home in khaki pants and a pistol holstered at her hip. As such, she sometimes forgot the effect she could have on the opposite sex when she revealed a bit too much leg or d�colletage.

�I was just thinking about the unusual path that this gem traveled before ending up here.�

Samantha straightened and glanced around. If she took note of the many hungry stares there were being aimed in her direction, she gave no indication of it. �It certainly is lovely,� she said, turning her gaze back to The Devil�s Eyepiece.

The sapphire was the lone gem on display at the moment, as Walder�s had put all their usual stock into storage, leaving nothing to compete with this rare jewel.

It was housed behind bulletproof glass in the exact center of the store. The surrounding glass box was bolted into a stone pedestal and was protected by photoelectric devices connected to burglar alarms.

Lazarus and Samantha watched as a steady stream of people passed along the rail that fronted the display, many of them uttering little gasps of appreciation for the beauty they saw behind the glass. With the many lights shining brightly down upon it, the stone glimmered impressively.

Walder stepped up to Lazarus, a pleased look on his face. �An excellent turnout, wouldn�t you say?� A middle-aged man with an expanding waistline, Walder had a thick moustache that looked like an oversized worm had crawled onto his upper lip.

�I don�t see how you could have asked for more,� Samantha said. �Is the plan still the same for afterward?�

Walder leaned in close, lowering his voice so that no one but he and the members of Assistance Unlimited could hear. �Yes, there should be no surprises on my end. I appreciate the suggestions you both have made. I feel much more secure and so does Mr. Moore.�

Lazarus nodded, his eyes scanning the room until he spotted Duncan Moore. The gem�s current owner was rakishly thin and very pale. His dark hair was worn with the bangs hanging down over his forehead, giving him the look of a wannabe Caesar. He held a cigarette in his right hand, looking foppish, as he puffed away with nervous glee. Lazarus wasn�t sure if it was Moore�s excitement over potential profit or his concern that the mysterious Mr. Scratch might be gunning for him.

The plan that Lazarus had come up with called for an armored truck to arrive shortly after the exhibit was closed. Guards would take possession of a box supposedly containing The Devil�s Eyepiece and then drive it back to a destination not shared with the public, where it would be held in safekeeping until Moore found a buyer.

The truth was slightly different. The box that would be loaded onto the truck would contain only a cheap knockoff, a replica created by Walder that would fool a casual observer but would never hold up under professional scrutiny. The actual Devil�s Eyepiece would be taken by Lazarus Gray himself and kept at 6196 Robeson Avenue until Moore�s business transaction was done.

Walder patted Lazarus on the arm and said, �I better go and mingle some more. Keep up the good work.�

Lazarus waited until Walder was out of earshot before saying, �When things are finished here, I want you to take your car and follow the truck.�

�You think someone�s going to make a play for the gem?�

�Possibly. If not, then all we�ve done is wasted a little bit of your time. If they do, though, you�ll be able to put a stop to it and hopefully wrap things up.�

�Whatever you say.� Samantha�s eyes widened slightly and a curious smile played quickly across her lips. Before Lazarus could ask her about it, she had pulled away from him and made a move to vanish into the crowd. �I�ll catch up to you before the exhibit closes.�

Lazarus turned to see what had elicited this response and immediately realized what Samantha�s smile had been about.

Kelly Emerson was striding toward him, cutting a lovely figure in a swirling black dress that left her shoulders exposed. The daughter of the Sovereign Museum�s curator, Kelly held doctorates in archaeology and anthropology. Standing nearly six feet tall and possessed of flowing red hair, she looked like a modern Amazon, with enough curves to unsettle even the most ardent of playboys. Her glittering green eyes and full lips had made her one of Sovereign City�s most sought-after figures.

To the amusement of gossip columnists everywhere, however, Emerson�s heart belonged to local hero Lazarus Gray. Though they�d suffered through a number of starts and stops in their relationship, Lazarus had recently made some attempts to rekindle things.

�Kelly,� Lazarus said, his voice softening. �How are you feeling?�

�Wonderful,� she answered, knowing what he was referencing. Not long ago, a man named Arthur Meeks had attacked her. The experience had left her with a slight concussion and some wounded pride but no lasting ill effects[13]. �You look very handsome tonight,� she added.

With exaggerated modesty, Lazarus gave a slight bow. �Thank you. I do try.�

Kelly looked past him at the long line of people streaming past the gem. �It�s lovely, isn�t it? Too bad that it�s going to end up in some rich man�s hands and not in the museum.�

�Some things are too beautiful to put under glass.�

Kelly glanced quickly at Lazarus, a faint color rising to her cheeks. �Why, Lazarus, are you actually engaging in flirtation? How unlike you.�

�I�m trying to be more� human.�

�Oh, you�re definitely human. I know that for a fact. But it�s nice that you�re trying.� She slipped a hand into his and they fell into the kind of easy conversational rhythm that comes from truly knowing your partner.

Two hours later, Samantha slid behind the wheel of her dark sedan. She could see Lazarus inside Walder�s, saying goodnight to Kelly, who was leaving with her father. A tiny pang of regret hit home as she saw them exchange pecks on each other�s cheek. She�d had what amounted to a crush on Lazarus when they�d first met, just as Morgan had carried a torch for her. In the end, they�d all realized that it was better to be friends than anything more� but sometimes she couldn�t help but wonder what might have transpired if things had gone differently.

Her attention returned to the job at hand as the driver of the armored truck started his engine. She fell in line behind him as he pulled out onto the Sovereign streets. The idea was to eventually fall back so it wasn�t apparent that the truck was being followed but still remain close enough that she could see if they fell into any trouble.

A soft rain was falling, which was nothing new in Sovereign. The city seemed to exist under a perpetually gray sky and it rained so often that most residents took no notice of it.

Samantha followed at a safe distance, using all the tailing techniques that Morgan had taught her. The driver had not taken any notice of her thus far � if he had, he might have tried to shake her, since he wasn�t in on the scheme to hide the real gem.

As they moved to another area of town, Samantha began to think that this mission was going to be for naught. A tiny pang of disappointment sprang up in her heart � like all members of Assistance Unlimited, she�d become addicted to the thrill that danger could bring. Given the choice between facing a horde of thugs armed with tommy guns or spending a boring evening at home, Samantha felt confident that she knew what Eun or Morgan would decide upon.

Suddenly, a bright flash of light caused the armored truck to swerve on the rain-slicked streets. It careened out of control and ran up on to the curb, the front of the vehicle smashing against the side of a brick building.

Samantha slammed on her brakes, coming to an abrupt stop in the center of the road. Standing not more than fifty feet away from her was a familiar sight, one that she had not seen in far too long: It was Abigail Cross, her long dark hair pulled back into a tail that hung down her back. She wore dark pants and a button-up blouse that wetly clung to her breasts. Her hands were held at her sides, glowing with a fierce blue light.

Samantha was out of the car within seconds, pistol in hand. She cast one quick glance over at the armored truck, detecting movement from the front seat. The driver, at least, was still alive, though the groans he was producing indicated that he wasn�t feeling well. His companion couldn�t be seen but Samantha hoped he�d be okay.

�Abby!� she shouted, moving slowly toward her former friend. She didn�t exactly raise her weapon but she didn�t put it away, either. �Where have you been? We expected you to be waiting for us after we got back.�

Abby looked at her with a deadpan expression, one that was so lifeless that it chilled the blood in Samantha�s veins. When she spoke, her voice equally cool. �I�m sorry you�re here for this, Samantha. You were like me, another pawn of our handsome hero, Lazarus Gray. If things had gone differently, it might have been you who�d died in that swamp instead of me.�

�We can help you,� Samantha began but her words broke off as Abby abruptly raised both hands and unleashed a powerful energy burst. It slammed into Samantha with all the force of a runaway freight train, sending her toppling head over foot through the watery street. She came to a halt only when her back slammed against an electric light pole.

Something warm and wet was seeping down the back of her hair but Samantha found the strength to stagger back to her feet. Her dress was now in tatters, exposing an indecent amount of stocking-covered leg.

Abby had moved to the armored truck. She reached out and grabbed hold of the back door of the vehicle, her eyes vanishing beneath a haze of magical power. She yanked the doors open with a sound like the crushing of a tin can and tossed the barrier aside. Within lay the small box that contained the fake Devil�s Eyepiece. Just before her hands reached for it, the driver of the truck stumbled out of his seat and moved toward her, his hand fumbling for his gun.

�Hey, lady!� he bellowed, still blinking in pained confusion. �Get away from there!�

Abby turned her head toward him and opened her mouth. A plume of fire rushed out, engulfing him. He screamed madly and Samantha ran forward quickly, shoving him down to the ground, where she immediately began trying to pat out the flames.

�What the hell�s happened to you?� she shouted, standing up as soon as the man�s life wasn�t in immediate danger.

Abby was still there, the box in her hands. She had opened it and the expression on her face was clear enough: she hadn�t fallen for the deception. �He�s going to be very angry,� she said.

�Tell me who you�re talking about.�

�Doctor Satan. He�s the one who brought me back.� Abby dropped the box to the ground, letting it splash in a growing puddle of water. The false gem tumbled out, carried away by the rushing stream and vanishing a moment later in the storm drain. �He�s going to kill all of you. He wants to make sure that the prophecy comes true.�

�Doctor Satan?� Samantha repeated. �Did he graduate from demonic medical school?�

�Don�t make fun,� Abby warned. �He can hear things�.�

�I�m not afraid of him,� Samantha said quickly. �And you shouldn�t be, either. We�ve faced the worst of the worst, Abby, and we can beat him, no matter who he is. Come with me and let Lazarus � �

�No!� Abby jerked away when Samantha reached out to her. Her hands were once again glowing and Samantha tensed, knowing what was about to happen.

�Please don�t fight me,� she pleaded. �I�m your friend.�

�It�s not my choice. Not anymore.� Abby swept her hands up into the air and the air between the two women responded, forming into a hard wall of force. It slammed into Samantha�s chin and knocked her off her feet. She was unconscious before she hit the curb.

Abby stood there in the rain, looking down at her former teammate for almost a minute. Then her body began to shimmer, finally fading away completely.

Just before she was gone from sight, she whispered, �I�m sorry, Samantha. I really am.�

Duncan Moore stubbed out his cigarette in an ashtray, blowing out a long trail of smoke from between his lips. �Thank you again for doing this, Mr. Gray. It is a massive weight off my shoulders to not have to worry about the gem�s protection.�

Lazarus watched as Walder lifted the box containing The Devil�s Eyepiece and slipped it into a larger box, which he fastened close. �You still seem very ill at ease.�

Moore barked out a nervous laugh. �If you had met this Mr. Scratch, you would be, too.�

�You haven�t given me much in the way of detail about him. In fact, all you�ve really give me is his name.�

�I don�t know anything else� I�m not even sure I could actually describe his appearance. He was dark-haired with deep-set eyes� but there was such a sense of menace that came from him that I couldn�t bear to look at him directly.� Moore shook his head in embarrassment. �I sound like a nervous young girl, don�t I? Intimidated by some strange man!�

Lazarus studied him closely, seeing the obvious fear in the other man�s eyes. �Why don�t you leave with Mr. Walder? If he has no objection, I�ll lock up here and exit through the rear of the building with the jewel.�

Walder stepped up, a pleased expression on his face. The exhibit had gone very well, which would greatly increase his clout in the community. �Sounds like a marvelous idea! Come along, Duncan � if you want, we can stop at my place on the way and have a celebratory drink!�

Moore allowed himself to be led away, though he cast one last glance at Lazarus before he left. There seemed to be something akin to concern in that gaze, though Lazarus wasn�t sure if it was for the safety of The Devil�s Eyepiece or for Lazarus himself.

When he was alone, Lazarus lifted the box and set it down next to the back door. He then did a quick run-through of the place, making sure that all lights were extinguished and the fires had been doused.

Things seemed secure but some sixth sense warned Lazarus that something was amiss. He drew out his pistol and held it in one hand as he cradled the box under his other arm, stepping out into the alley behind Walder�s shop.

He had earlier parked his vehicle there, a sporty roadster that could outrun almost any American car currently in production. He saw his car at the end of the alley now but there was a man leaning against it � and his appearance was anything but ordinary. He wore a long crimson-colored cloak that hid most of his body but Lazarus could make out some sort of mask beneath the hood, as well as red gloves and boots.

�Mr. Scratch, I presume?� Lazarus said, setting the box and its priceless contents atop the lid of a trashcan to his right. He hated to leave it where it might be stolen by others, assuming that the red-garbed man might have allies, but he also wanted his hands free in case of conflict.

The man in red stood up straight and gave a gallant bow. �One of my many names.� He took a few steps toward Lazarus and his boots splashed through the tiny puddles caused by the rain. �I�ve wanted to meet you for so very long. I think you�d be surprised to know how close you and I have been these past few years.�

Lazarus raised his gun and the sound of him cocking it seemed very loud. �Don�t come any closer,� he warned.

The man stopped and spread his arms in surprise. �Or what? You�ll shoot me in cold blood? That�s not very heroic, Lazarus. I thought the whole point of reinventing yourself as a new person was to leave behind all that troublesome morality that defined your time with The Illuminati. Now you�re the good guy, the white hat and the sheriff in a lawless land. Murder doesn�t suit you.�

Lazarus studied the man in greater detail now. The masked face seemed unfamiliar. �Were you in the Illuminati?� he asked.

�I�ve been a part of numerous cabals over the years but that one� Not really. Not to say I never attended any of their rituals or had dealings with their agents. But I never was a card-carrying member, no.� Reaching up, he pushed his hood back, revealing his face. The mask clung tightly to his cheekbones in the rain and the horns atop his head seemed almost natural. �Call me Doctor Satan, if you would. It�s how I like to be known these days.�

That name sent a shock of recognition through Lazarus. Doctor Satan was a character whispered about in the dark corridors of power, a criminal genius whom some believed to actually be much more � a true devotee of the occult, with abilities that allowed him to continually bedevil those who opposed him. �What are you doing here in Sovereign?�

�I�ve been here for some time, actually. After what you did to my old friends, I began to take an interest in you.�

�Old friends?�

�Of course! They�re here now, in fact, anxious to renew your acquaintance.� Doctor Satan raised a hand and snapped his fingers. A group of four materialized out of thin air, standing just behind Doctor Satan.

The man who led the foursome was dressed like a ringmaster and had a long drooping moustache. He held a top hat in one hand. Standing to his left was a woman who wore the briefest of swimsuits. A python was curled about her torso, its head resting against her shoulder. The serpent�s forked tongue danced to and fro, as if tasting the air. To the ringmaster�s right was a man dressed in only a loincloth. His entire body had been shaved and covered with intricate tattoos. A series of painful-looking piercings on his back were clear signs that he spent at least part of his time suspended from them. The fourth member of the group was hidden beneath voluminous robes and their gender was indeterminate, though Lazarus thought he detected the stench of rotting flesh emanating from it.

�The Devil�s Circus,� Lazarus said, his mind returning to the awful events of just over a year ago � when Walther Lunt had led him on a dangerous chase for this demonic organization. As a student of the occult, Lazarus had found references to the Circus in Eleven Occult Rituals That Must Be Avoided; Tobin�s Spirit Guide Volume Two; A Handbook of the Strange; and A Guide to The Devil�s Footprints on Earth. As their name suggested, they were a traveling carnival of the damned. They would set down roots in various places, staying there for a time so they could unleash pain and suffering upon those unlucky enough to encounter them. They would then pull up stakes and travel on, led by their dark Ringmaster, a man named Twining.

In the end, it hadn�t been Lazarus to defeat them at all but rather a traitorous ally of theirs, the bizarre Professor Murder. He had used the device known as Die Glocke to transport them directly into the sun, where it was hoped that their evil would be destroyed forever.

�Devil�s Circus� Satan�s Circus� take your pick,� Doctor Satan murmured. �Whatever you call them, they work for me. Long ago, they�d been trapped from this dimension, locked away by the Catalyst[14]�of another age. I�d sorely missed their assistance and I was excited by the prospect of having them back� but then you went and sent them away again. It took a lot of time and effort on my part to reassemble them.�

�You�re angry at the wrong man,� Lazarus said, trying to distract Satan with his words, while activating the tiny communicator he wore on his person. He would never be able to defeat all of these entities without help. �I had nothing to do with their banishment into the sun.�

�Ah, but you did! Your actions helped prolong the entire thing and led the Circus into their doomed alliance with Prof. Murder. So please forgive me if I refuse to let you pass the buck!� Doctor Satan waved a finger at Lazarus, as if scolding a particularly naughty child. �I eventually found my way to Sovereign, where I helped your old enemy Melvin Pemberley escape from prison and form Murder Unlimited[15]. That was good for a laugh and it allowed me to see you and your team in action� but it wasn�t until I stumbled upon Abigail that I truly saw a way to destroy you. She was instrumental in helping me free the Circus, as well. She�s quite powerful � barely scratched the surface of her potential in life.�

Twining reached up and twirled his moustache, unintentionally looking like an old Silent Movie villain. �Prof. Murder wasn�t quite the expert on Die Glocke that he thought he was. Instead of sending us directly into the sun, he scattered us throughout the past. Different eras, different countries, but we were still united by a common cause: we wanted to be reunited. We wanted to watch the world burn. And we wanted to see you brought low, Lazarus Gray. Because if our association with Walther Lunt taught us only one thing, it was this: you and your band of do-gooder friends are mankind�s last line of defense against the likes of us � and our dark master!�

Lazarus suddenly understood � the realization suddenly striking home with all the force of a lighting bolt. His old lover, Miya Shimada, had said that the Japanese Buddhists called it satori, which meant �sudden enlightenment.� In many ways, it matched the experience that The Darkling claimed to have had when he had come face-to-face with death � the quick burst of clarity, in which all things suddenly seemed to make sense.

In this case, he voiced his enlightenment by saying, �The prophecy� the stones� they were created by the Circus, some kind of taunting sent across the centuries.�

�Not a taunt,� Twining said with glee. �Not a prophecy, either. More of a promise.�

Lazarus had heard enough. He opened fire, his first bullet catching Twining in the throat. Blood sprayed forth, though Lazarus was positive that a mere bullet would not faze the man for long. After squeezing off two more quick shots that caused the rest of the Circus to fall back behind Doctor Satan, Lazarus grabbed hold of the box containing The Devil�s Eyepiece and began running up the fire escape to the roof.

Waiting for him when he got there was Satan and his demonic circus. Twining�s throat was still gushing blood but he was grinning madly, staring at Lazarus with undisguised hate.

�You can run but you can�t hide, Lazarus,� Doctor Satan warned. To his companions, he said, �Take the gem.�

The foursome sprang into action � Twining drawing a curved knife from the inside of his colorful jacket; the snake woman grabbing hold of her reptile like it was a living whip, swinging it in anticipation of throwing it at Lazarus; the strongman cracked his knuckles loudly; and the mysterious cloaked figure raising a crooked finger, which she pointed in her enemy�s direction.

Lazarus felt his skin growing cold as some sort of unseen horror struck him. He fired at the hooded woman, staggering her, and the attack ceased at once. He then dodged as the snake came hurtling toward him. It landed at his feet, striking quickly. Its fangs caught his pants leg but missed his flesh.

Twining danced forward, his knife flashing, and Lazarus grunted as the blade dug deep into his left shoulder. Ignoring the pain, Lazarus grabbed hold of the ringmaster and threw him in the path of the serpent. The snake didn�t miss this time, its fangs striking home in the man�s calf.

As Twining cried out, Lazarus put his gun straight to the man�s temple and fired. The explosion ruined the demon�s head, spraying gray matter all over the approaching strong man.

Dropping the box between his feet, Lazarus yanked out the knife that had been embedded in his shoulder, wielding it with expert skill as the big man lunged for him. He caught the man in the throat, cutting a scarlet path that stretched all the way up to the man�s earlobe.

All of these tiny victories were just that, Lazarus knew. These creatures would not be easy to kill, if that was even possible� they�d heal and rise up again, coming at him until exhaustion wore him down.

Realizing that his own survival was paramount, Lazarus did the only thing that he could think of that might ensure his ability to escape. Tossing aside both his pistol and the knife that he�d stolen from Twining, Lazarus picked up the box containing The Devil�s Eyepiece and he threw it with both hands. The gem hurtled through the air, falling toward the street that lay in front of Walden�s.

Doctor Satan screamed in fury, directing his forces to retrieve the gem before it was damaged. The snake charmer sprinted toward the edge of the roof and threw herself over the edge. She managed to catch the box in midair, curling it protectively against her body as she fell to the street below. Her back slammed against the asphalt with enough force to kill a normal woman. A passing cab swerved to avoid her, narrowly avoiding contact.

�You fool!� Satan bellowed, twisting around to berate Lazarus. �You have no idea what you almost-�

Lazarus was gone.

Doctor Satan walked slowly forward, looking down as Lazarus drove his car from the alley.

�Should we pursue him?� Twining asked. The ringmaster�s skull had a huge hole in it and Satan could see right through to the other side.

�No. We got what we came here for. Gray can live for another day.�

The headquarters of Assistance Unlimited was located at 6196 Robeson Avenue. Lazarus Gray had purchased all three of the buildings that lay on this city block, transforming what had once been an unassuming neighborhood into the beating heart of his enterprise. The centerpiece of his holdings was a three-story structure that had once been a hotel. Gray�s three associates used the first floor, while the second had been gutted and converted into one large room that was used for meetings, briefings and research. The third floor was off-limits to everyone but Gray himself and was his private domicile.

Across the street were several storefronts owned by Lazarus, all of which had closed down at the dawn of the Great Depression.

Lazarus found the relative silence of this street to be an oasis of sorts, a place where he could escape the dangers of the outside world. It wasn�t impregnable, of course � in fact, Robeson Avenue had been the scene of a number of armed conflicts and for a time, the undead Egyptian known as Princess Femi had lived in a prison located in the team�s headquarters. Nevertheless, Lazarus felt secure here and his friends shared that feeling.

�We can�t trust him,� Eun said, drawing a sigh from Morgan and a non-judgmental murmur from Samantha.

Lazarus glanced around the meeting room table, at the three people he�d come to consider his family, and he wondered how he had gotten so lucky that they�d willingly follow him into danger again and again. �We don�t have much choice,� he said, which brought a glower from the young Korean. �We�re badly outmanned here � not only are we facing Doctor Satan but the entire Circus, not to mention Abigail. The Darkling is a capable fighter and I think that we can count on him to do what�s right � it�s his methods that vary from ours, not his dedication to justice.�

�He killed Abby.� Eun said, and that brought everyone to silence for a moment.

Lazarus nodded at last, having already thought of that fact on numerous occasions since he�d returned to headquarters and found The Darkling waiting for him. �Yes. But I have no doubt that she was doing everything she could to slay him, as well. I�m more concerned with defeating Doctor Satan right now � then we can focus on helping Abby. If The Darkling can help us do that, I�m willing to set aside our differences for the duration.�

Eun leaned forward, his exasperation causing his voice to rise. �But we don�t have to do that! If we need help, let�s call up Thunder Jim Wade! Or The Peregrine! Or Doc Daye! Hell, we can have an army here within 24 hours! We don�t need that piece of trash, Lazarus!�

Morgan cleared his throat and said, �Look, I�m of two minds on this. I agree with Eun that I don�t like the guy and I can�t stand the idea that he killed our friend. On the other hand, I see where Lazarus is coming from � The Darkling can be useful to us. Maybe we can work with him for now and then when we�re done with him, we stab him in the back.�

�I don�t like that,� Samantha said. �Feels� dishonest.�

�Of course it�s dishonest. That�s the point,� Morgan said with a roguish grin.

Still frowning, Samantha looked back at Lazarus and said, �Just make the decision, Lazarus. Whether we all agree with it or not, we�ll do what you say.�

Lazarus took a deep breath. �Thank you for that. All of you.� He stood up and rapped his knuckles on the tabletop. �I say we work with him for now. When the job is done, then we see where we go from there.�

�We�re going to turn on him?� Morgan asked, seemingly surprised that his suggestion might be accepted.

�No. I agree with Samantha that it would be going down a path I�m not comfortable with. I plan to make it clear to him from the get-go that this is a marriage of convenience.�

�Which gives him plenty of time to think about how to betray us,� Eun said with a glower.

Abby sat at the table in the corner of the room, her eyes barely registering on the scene before her. The Circus had been treated to a celebratory dinner, to congratulate them on helping bring The Devil�s Eyepiece into Doctor Satan�s possession. A bevy of prostitutes and showgirls had been brought up, all bought and paid for by Mr. Scratch.

The horrors that ensued would have once turned Abby�s stomach. Now, she watched with at best dim disinterest, not even caring about the occasional splatter of blood that stained her clothing and face.

Doctor Satan sat down beside her, his eager expression showing just how much he enjoyed watching his pets at play. Despite the screams and crying that filled the room, Doctor Satan�s voice cut through it all, taking up all of Abby�s attention. �You look sad, my pretty bird. Don�t you realize that you should be happy?�

�The gem has no power,� she murmured, turning her head to look at him. �Why go to such lengths to get it? All those legends are just that � stories. It�s so unimportant but you risked everything to fight Lazarus Gray over it.�

�You miss the point,� he said, leaning back in his chair. Under his hood and mask, she could see his grin spread wider. �I enjoy seeing people suffer. And Lazarus Gray� he vexes me. That means it�s all the sweeter seeing him brought low.�

�He�s never gone after you,� she countered. �All that stuff with the Circus and Die Glocke� even Murder Unlimited� none of that brought you to his attention. You�re the one who kept inserting yourself into his path.�

�He could have been a tremendous force of darkness, Abby, but he turned away from it. He�s clinging to some outdated ideal of heroism and he�s inspiring others to do the same. All of his followers were saved from a dark path � Morgan could have remained in the mob, Eun could have continued being a bloodthirsty vigilante and even adorable little Samantha could have been tainted by her father�s blackmail. But now look at them � all prancing around with their hearts on their sleeves!�

�You�re jealous.�

Satan�s smile vanished. His voice became cold and brittle. �Why would I be jealous of him?�

�Because he had the strength to change his life. And because he has people who follow him because they love and believe in him� not because he holds power over them.�

Satan stood up, stepping over the headless corpse of a young woman. He strode to the center of the room, right into the midst of the debauchery, and then he turned back to Abby. When he spoke, everyone in the room stopped whatever they were doing and looked at him.

�Our little witch thinks that I covet all that our enemy possesses! Is there anybody else here who thinks that? Speak up!� Satan looked from one to the next, noting how the Circus members were obviously in awe of his power. Their victims, those that retained enough sanity to even acknowledge what was happening, looked at him like he was the Devil himself. Their eyes alternately begged for release or for vengeance. �Come, come! She can�t be the only one who thinks that I�m weak� that I do these things not for my personal amusement but because I�m secretly sad that Lazarus is so happy!�

�I do think you�re jealous,� someone said. �But I also think you�re doing this because you�re a sick freak.�

Doctor Satan whirled toward the door. There should have been no one else in this entire building � he�d made sure that they were alone for the festivities, having rented the entire Lovecraft Hotel for the rest of the week. But standing there in the doorway was a man dressed in bullet-resistant armor. He wore a mask that was reminiscent of a skull and he had a hood pulled up over his head. In his right hand, he held a high-caliber pistol.

�And who might you be?� Satan asked curiously. At his side, Twining disengaged from the bleeding girl he�d been toying with and rose to his feet, a knife dripping with gore.

�You can call me Eidolon,� the man said. �And I believe I�m supposed to tell you that Ascott Keane sends his regards.�

Satan�s eyes narrowed at the mention of the criminologist who thwarted so many of his schemes. He and Keane had engaged in a battle of wits that had spanned several years, with no end in sight.

Before Satan could say anything else, Eidolon raised his pistol and squeezed off multiple rounds. The bullets ripped into the flesh of the Circus members, causing them to scream in agony.

When one of the shells ended up in Satan�s belly, he understood why: the silver-tipped bullets had been soaked in holy water, a trick that had been used against Satan before. It was a favorite of Keane�s.

Satan hissed in pain, trying to ignore the burning in his gut. Eidolon dropped a canister to the floor, letting it roll to Satan�s feet, where it suddenly erupted, unleashing a powerful cloud of smoke.

Through the haze, Satan could see Eidolon in motion. The masked man rushed to Abby�s side, yanking her to her feet. She wasn�t resisting but her lethargy slowed the man down, as well. Giving up on dragging her to the door, Eidolon picked Abby up and threw her over a shoulder. He bolted from the room, tossing a second canister in his wake.

The strong man, who growled in his fury, caught this one in midair. He thought it to be another gas bomb but this was quickly proven wrong when it detonated, releasing an incendiary explosive that blanketed the entire room.

The girls who had still been living were incinerated, along with their abusers, but Eidolon felt no guilt over this. Their wounds, both mental and physical, would have been too great in his opinion.

As the flames spread higher, threatening to engulf the entire building, Doctor Satan stood calmly in the center of it all. His skin was cooking over his bones but he never cried out in pain. His rage was too great for that, it obliterated all but his desire to strike back at his enemies.

Slowly, he brought the fire under control, until the last spark of it died out a mere three feet from his body. The smoldering corpses that surrounded him looked little worse than he did, for he resembled a twisted bit of jerky.

It would take time to heal� and even more time to heal his pets.

But then this Eidolon would pay.

And so would all of Assistance Unlimited.

Eidolon dropped Abby into the passenger seat of his convertible car. He hurried behind the wheel and drove off quickly, looking over his shoulder to see if they were being pursued. All he saw was the burning flames from Satan�s apartment. Last night�s rain had finally ended but even if it hadn�t it wouldn�t have been strong enough to douse the flames.

He wasn�t fool enough to believe that he�d permanently killed the villains but he was hoping that they�d be slowed enough to allow him to escape.

With a quick motion of his hand, he divested himself of the mask he wore, letting it fall between him and Abby. When he looked at her, his hair was mussed but that did nothing to change how handsome he was. Blond and blue-eyed, Jakob Sporrenberg was the Aryan ideal� but when push had come to shove, he�d betrayed his government in favor of following his moral compass.

�Why did you come for me?� Abby asked.

�Why wouldn�t I? We�re friends.� Eidolon turned down a dark alley and parked his car. �Come with me.�

Abby moved sluggishly but followed him as he splashed through rain puddles, stopping outside an unmarked door on the side of a brick building. He unlocked it and moved inside, flipping on a light switch as he entered.

After she stepped into the sanctum, Eidolon locked the door behind her. The interior consisted of one large room, complete with mounds of newspaper clipping, bookshelves filled to overflowing with criminology texts and a small bed, beside which was a nightstand adorned by an alarm clock, a Sun Koh pulp novel in German and an empty whiskey bottle.

�You live here?� she asked.

�For now. It�s one of several dozen safe houses that The Darkling has. I wasn�t with him for very long before everything fell apart and he vanished along with you but he gave me a list of places I could hide if I needed to. Believe me, I�ve made use of them, too.�

Abby and Jakob stood facing each other for a moment before the German rushed forward and embraced her. He felt how stiff she was and the cold brush of her skin but it didn�t matter.

�I am sorry,� he whispered and she felt his tears drip into her hair.

She pulled away, looking at him with a small spark of life in her eyes. �Why?�

�We joined Assistance Unlimited together� and both of us fell from grace at the same time. I should have been there for you. I should have found you after you disappeared. I should have� done more.�

�That�s silly. You weren�t even there when The Darkling and I vanished. You had no idea where we were.�

Jakob wiped away his tears with the back of his hand. �You can�t expect facts to get in the way of guilt,� he said with a smile.

�You shouldn�t have rescued me,� she said. �Doctor Satan will be angry. And it�s pointless. I�m dead.�

�No, you�re not.�

�Yes, I am.� She held up a wrist. �Feel my pulse. It�s barely there. My body temperature is dangerously low. And I feel like there�s a sheathe around my heart. Nothing feels real anymore.�

�I�ve seen the undead� and so have you. You�re not one of them.� Jakob reached out and took her arms into his hands. �All of this that you�re describing� it�s because of something that Doctor Satan did to you. I don�t know for sure if it�s magic or drugs but he�s slowing down your heart rate and making you believe that you died. It�s all a lie!�

�How do you know that?� she asked and he thought he detected a note of hope in her voice.

�I just do. All you need is time away from him so that your mind and body can be cleansed.� He lowered his voice. �And I�m willing to bet that your passions can be inflamed.�

Jakob brought his lips quickly to hers and the awkward clench slowly became more intense. For the first time since her rebirth, a flush of warmth washed through all of Abby�s limbs and her mouth became a hungry organ, working madly against his.

When they finally separated, she was breathing rapidly and Jakob was smiling. �Do you see?� he asked.

�Yes, I see,� she responded. �Now kiss me again.�

Assistance Unlimited and their unwanted ally, The Darkling, were gathered in the meeting room. The tension remained as an undercurrent but now that Lazarus had put his foot down, no one on Assistance Unlimited would challenge him. They had gone to war with him too many times to doubt his wisdom, no matter how wrong his decisions might feel to them.

Lazarus leaned forward, tapping a finger onto a map of The Lovecraft Hotel. �According to my sources, Scratch has rented the entire building for the rest of the week. That says to me that he�s not planning to leave town, despite having gotten The Devil�s Eyepiece. We need to move quickly, though, and verify that.�

A sudden buzzing interrupted the planning session. The Darkling watched as Eun sprang to his feet and ran from the room.

�Something I need to know about?� the vigilante asked. He wore his mask and adventuring garb, which was the least of the things that seemed different about him. As Harold Grant, he was a dashing and somewhat approachable figure � but as The Darkling, he exuded danger and his voice was much deeper.

Samantha glanced at him and suppressed a shiver. �Lazarus has a sophisticated monitoring system set up � if an alert goes out on either the police or fire department radio bands, we know about it.�

�Impressive.�

Eun quickly returned, slightly out of breath. �Huge fire was reported over at the Lovecraft but they�re saying it�s completely under control. Multiple corpses were found in the room 317.�

�That was Scratch�s,� The Darkling murmured.

Ignoring the interruption, Eun said, �We also just got a call from John McBurney � he says that the mayor needs to see you immediately. He says it�s a major emergency.�

McBurney was the personal aide to Mayor Rainsford Byles, one of the few good men in the Sovereign political machine. Byles offered assistance to the city�s defenders when he could, sometimes at great personal risk to himself.

�Tell him we�re on our way,� Lazarus said. Turning to The Darkling, he added, �Would you mind going with Morgan to check out the scene at the Lovecraft? There may be something useful that they left behind � some clue as to what their next plans may be. I�m also curious if Doctor Satan set this fire to hide his tracks or if something else occurred.�

The Darkling nodded, moving quickly to the door. He brushed past Eun without a word, forcing Morgan to hurry to keep up. �We�ll take my car,� he said, hurriedly taking the stairs toward the street.

�Fine,� Morgan said, �But when we�re there, let me handle things. The authorities know me.�

�You�re free to do what you wish. I�ll focus my investigations in my own way.� The Darkling glanced at Morgan, his eyes narrowing. �Let�s agree not to get in each other�s way.�

Morgan frowned but murmured an agreement. Truth be told, he didn�t want The Darkling spooking the local cops or firefighters. Even the guys who weren�t on the take were jumpy about the cloak and mask crowd � and The Darkling�s creepy act would only make that worse.

�Whatever you say, boss,� Morgan replied.

Lazarus, Eun and Samantha were led into the mayor�s office, where they found Sovereign�s highest elected official puffing away on a cigar and staring out the window, a pensive expression on his face. He seemed to relax slightly as he turned to face them, shaking hands with both Lazarus and Eun before giving Samantha a fatherly hug.

His narrow gray eyes refused to give any indication as to what was troubling him but his body language suggested that he was more tense than usual. A former professional polo player who had retired just a few years before his switch to politics, Rainsford Byles had a nervous habit of tensing his broad shoulders, which he was doing now.

After everyone had taken their seats and the mayor�s secretary had closed the door, Lazarus asked, �What�s the nature of the emergency, Mr. Mayor?�

�Call me Rainsford,� Byles said with a tired grin. They went through this little song and dance every time they got together. Turning to Samantha, he said, �I saw your father the other day. He said you should call him more often.�

�If I called him every hour, it still wouldn�t be enough,� Samantha said, placing her hands over her crossed knees.

�Fathers and their daughters,� Byles said with a shrug.

Lazarus spoke up in a businesslike fashion. �Your call mentioned an emergency, Mr. Mayor?�

�Yes, you�re right � we have more pressing business.� Byles picked up his cigar and tapped it against the ashtray. �I received a package shortly before I called you.� He gestured to a nearby table, upon which was sitting a partially unwrapped parcel.

Lazarus stood up and approached the box, peering inside. His normally impassive face twisted at the awful sight that lay within � it was a pigeon, one that had been horribly crushed by some powerful grip. Lying beside it was a handwritten note that read:

The reference to Ernst Hill caught everyone�s attention. One of the highest points in the city, it overlooked the Sovereign Cemetery and was most notorious for having been the site of a terrible gang rape several decades past. The crime had been so terrible that the details were still whispered of as warnings to young women. Though not everyone knew the final horror: that the teenage girl had been impregnated and had carried the baby to term. Upon seeing its face, however, she went mad, claiming that in its eyes were the eyes of her attackers. Shortly thereafter, she�d committed suicide and the baby had been placed into foster care.

�Strange,� Lazarus murmured.

�You can say that again,� the mayor answered. He took a last drag on his cigar before stamping it out. �Who sent it? Why send it to me if it was a message for you? And who�s this �pretty little bird� they�re talking about?�

Lazarus passed the note to Samantha, who read it quickly before handing it to Eun. �It was sent by a man who calls himself Doctor Satan.�

The mayor�s eyes opened wide. �Good lord! I�ve heard of that lunatic! They say he poisoned the water supply in El Paso last fall � killed nearly thirty people, some of them children!�

Lazarus nodded, adding, �He sent the note here because he wants you to know about the threat. He enjoys causing fear and he thinks this is a good way to do that.�

�Well, he�s crazy if he thinks I�m going to be paralyzed with terror!� Byles stood up and adjusted his tie. �We�ll have every officer in the city surrounding Ernst Hill � if the jackal shows his face, we�ll throw him behind bars before he knows what�s happening!�

�I wouldn�t recommend that,� Lazarus said. �This man and his allies have abilities that your men couldn�t deal with. They�d just be victims waiting to happen. My people will handle him.�

�And what do you want me to do? Just sit at home and twiddle my thumbs?� The expression on the mayor�s face made it clear that he hated to be shoved to the sidelines.

Lazarus looked over at Eun. �I�ll leave someone with you to protect you, though you�re welcome to have your officers there, as well.�

Eun rose quickly from his chair. �Chief! Don�t do this! I want to be there when we take Satan down!�

�Someone needs to stay with the mayor,� Lazarus countered. �No matter who I task with that duty, they�re going to be disappointed.�

�But I�m a fighter! You need me for this.�

�We�re all fighters,� Samantha pointed out.

�That�s easy for you to say � you�re getting to go!�

Lazarus held up a hand and both of his friends fell silent. �For all we know, this is a feint. We send the majority of our forces to Ernst Hill and then Doctor Satan arrives to grab the mayor. I have a feeling that you�re not going to miss out on any action.�

Eun sighed but said nothing in reply. He could tell from the look on Samantha�s face that she wasn�t going to say a word to help his case, especially if it meant that she might be put on guard duty instead.

Turning back to the mayor, Lazarus said, �I want you to remain here this evening. City Hall is far more defensible than your house would be � plus, we don�t want to put your family at risk. We�ll make it very clear to the papers that you�re working all night on some important piece of legislation. It will reinforce the image they have of you as a hard worker.�

Byles grunted. �I am a hard worker.�

�Then you�ll get a lot done this evening.�

�You still haven�t told me who the pretty little bird is,� Byles reminded him. �Does this have to do with the attractive brunette who worked with you for a little while?�

�Abigail Cross,� Lazarus said. �And, yes, it has everything to do with her.�

Fifteen minutes later, Lazarus Gray was seated behind the wheel of his car, Samantha at his side. They were headed back to Robeson Avenue, where they would rendezvous with The Darkling and Morgan when they were finished at the hotel. Eun, still fuming, had been left behind with the mayor.

�Lazarus, what�s going on?�

�What do you mean?�

�That note from Doctor Satan� it made it sound like Abby was with us. Is there something I don�t know?�

�It�s got to be Jakob.�

Samantha�s expression of shock was almost comical. She saw the corners of Lazarus� lips curl upward in response. �What makes you think it�s Jakob?�

�Doctor Satan knows a lot about us � I wouldn�t put it past him to know that Jakob Sporrenberg became Eidolon. If Eidolon did rescue Abby, then Satan would assume that he was working with us again.�

�But they could be anywhere!�

�True� but I doubt they�ve had time to leave the city. Besides, it�s not like I plan to bring Abby with us to Ernst Hill.�

�The moment Satan sees she�s not with us, he�ll launch whatever attack he�d been planning against Mayor Byles.�

�Oh, I think he�d launch his attack regardless,� Lazarus replied. �Satan isn�t an honest man � he would like nothing more than to betray us so he could enjoy the looks of shock on our faces. But that�s not going to happen because we won�t let it.�

�So what is the plan, then?�

�How would you feel about wearing a wig?�

The Lovecraft Hotel was abuzz with activity. Firefighters and police officers were combing through the building while the press was milling about outside. Since the Lovecraft was one of the oldest hotels in the city, there was a lot of interest in what could have happened within � especially now that rumors were flying about multiple female bodies having been discovered onsite.

Morgan stepped into the foyer and spotted Inspector Cord chatting with a couple of fire investigators. Cord was on the straight-and-narrow, which put him at odds with many of the more corrupt officials in the city, but the whippet-thin man with the perpetually narrowed eyes was no friend to men like Lazarus Gray. He despised vigilantes almost as much as he hated crooks.

�Inspector!� Morgan said jovially as he approached. The smile on his face was not matched by the expression on Cord�s � the police officer puffed harder on the cigarette that was tightly clenched between his lips. �Mind if I ask you a few questions?� Morgan pressed.

The fire investigators moved away, not wanting to be part of whatever was about to occur. They knew how Cord felt about �amateurs� getting involved in one of his cases.

�What the hell do you want, Morgan?� Cord growled, blowing smoke in Morgan�s face.

�Just trying to see if there�s anything I can do to help.�

�You�re a real bleeding heart, aren�t you?� Cord tossed his cigarette toward a nearby ashtray but his aim was off. The butt glanced off the side and hit the ground, where Morgan plucked it up and delivered it into the proper receptacle.

�Better be careful, Inspector. You�re liable to start another fire like that.� Morgan adjusted his tie and leaned in close. �So� how about giving me an idea about what you�ve found out? Lazarus is going to be seriously steamed if I don�t come back with some clues.�

As Cord launched into a familiar tirade about vigilantes, a dark shape seemed to emerge from the wall behind him. It glided up the stairs, moving right past the investigators. No one took notice of it, not even when it darted between two officers and into the burned out ruins of Mr. Scratch�s apartment.

Silently pushing the door shut behind him, The Darkling relaxed a bit. He ignored the terrible smells that wafted through the air and began to look about. Not all of the bodies had been removed � several still lay on the floor beneath white sheets. Here and there, the walls were splattered with blood and gore.

The Darkling had seen a lot of death over the years and he�d personally caused a good bit of it. He didn�t believe that anyone was completely innocent but there were certainly grades of sin � and no matter what these women did for a living, none of them deserved the horror they had probably experienced in their last moments.

Kneeling, The Darkling lifted one of the sheets and peered beneath. The body was badly burned but he could make out numerous stab wounds and what looked like bite marks on the woman�s neck.

After making a disgusted noise, The Darkling stood up and began examining the rest of the room. There were no visible signs of The Devil�s Circus but he was sure that they had been here � he could sense it, with every fiber of his being.

It wasn�t until he wandered into one of the bedrooms that he finally found something tangible. Scrawled on the wall, written in blood, were the same words that Tenzin had shown him so long ago:

The Darkling could only assume that Cord would have a field day with that one. Would he try and somehow pin this on Lazarus, as if all these women had died because Assistance Unlimited was operating in Sovereign?

It was then that The Darkling noticed that the bloody message was beginning to fade from sight. As he stood there watching, it slowly returned, before once more vanishing.

�Magic,� he whispered. Designed to appear only to certain people, it would probably never be noticed by Cord or his men. Doctor Satan had left it behind, as a warning and a reminder to the man that he now regarded as an enemy.

The Darkling sensed more than heard the movement from behind him. He whirled about to find the Circus strongman creeping out from the closet. The burly figure was caked with dried blood and his eyes were dark narrow points hidden beneath his heavy brows.

�You�re not the one we wanted,� the strong man said in a gravely voice. �I was hoping you�d be the pretty blonde one.�

The Darkling drew his automatics, one in each hand. �I may not be as cute but I�m still one hell of a dance partner.�

The big bruiser growled like a tiger and lunged toward The Darkling, who opened fire. Bullets tore through the strong man�s flesh but he kept coming, slamming hard into the vigilante. He lifted The Darkling off the floor and carried him toward the far wall. The impact was enough to rattle The Darkling�s teeth and for a moment he thought he might black out.

Then the strong man began pummeling The Darkling�s midsection and all thoughts vanished completely from the vigilante�s mind. He knew that unless he separated himself from the physical pain that he was feeling, he had no hope of survival.

Allowing himself to go limp, The Darkling ignored the cracking of his ribs and the bruising of his flesh. His mind shifted to another place, where he was disconnected from the frailties of his human body.

This pain was nothing compared to what he had experienced in the past.

It was a transient thing, unlike the glory that was his spirit� his mind.

Suddenly, The Darkling slammed both pistols on the side of the strong man�s head. He then used one of the weapons to shove the man�s neck back, exposing his face. Before the strong man could even react, The Darkling punched the barrel of his gun into his enemy�s mouth. Teeth cracked under the force of the blow and the barrel lodged deep into the muscle-bound figure�s throat.

The Darkling squeezed off three quick shots.

Bullets ripped through soft flesh and tissue, erupting out of the back of the man�s neck.

The big fellow swayed on his feet, his eyes looking wide with shock. He reached out with one hand, as if trying to grab hold of The Darkling to steady himself. The vigilante raised a foot and used it to kick the demonic figure away from him, causing the strong man to hit the ground with a loud impact.

The Darkling stood there for a moment, his automatics smoking. He knew it was only a matter of seconds before the strong man�s supernatural form would begin to heal itself and he would rise anew. It would be even less time before the authorities responded to the noise and burst into the apartment.

Kneeling next to the circus member, The Darkling quickly withdrew a small piece of chalk, which he used to draw a pentagram around the figure. He could hear footsteps and voices out in the hall, which spurred him to greater speed.