Per the online dictionary, G�tterd�mmerung (g�t�ter�d�m�mer�ung) means: A turbulent ending of a regime or an institution, and you�d better believe ace new pulp fictioneer Barry Reese fully delivers on the promise of that title in this, the latest installment of his Sovereign City Saga.

For those of you stepping into Sovereign City for the first time, be prepared for a thrilling, if worrisome, visit to a town which teeters precariously on the edge of evil, and is in danger of falling into the dark abyss at any moment, were it not for the efforts of Laurus Gray and his superhuman associates.

As described by Reese: �There was an ambience to Sovereign City that spoke of lost idealism and tarnished dreams. It seeped into the bones and souls of the people who called the city home, leading many into lives of degradation and crime.�

The city itself is a major character in all the stories set within its borders. The descriptive passages concerning its haunted ambience make it seem alive with horrors both large and small. Its streets reek with an indescribable funk which the city�s inhabitants try to ignore with little success. But lately even the smell of Sovereign is even worse and the atmosphere has become so oppressive that there has been a sudden wave of suicides.

It�s 1938 as G�tterd�mmerung begins, and a newly married but weakened Lazarus Gray returns to the troubled metropolis, only to find it in greater danger than ever before. He senses the sudden increase of suicides is the harbinger of a coming encompassing terror. His fellow heroes The Gravedigger, The Perigrine and Gray�s own Assistance Unlimited crew are aware of the rising tide of evil, too. For the first time all are compelled to work as an uber-team against the machinations of evil whose seeds were sown a year before in Nazi Germany.

There, in an attempt to curry Adolf Hitler�s favor, Heinrich Himmler created the Occult Forces Project, aimed at creating a Nazi army of superhumans gifted with supernatural powers. And he, to his future regret, has succeeded. Creatures with vile powers now work with the German empire, but only insofar as it serves their own goal of the ultimate domination and destruction of mankind, including Herr Hitler and his mad Reich.

Reese deftly weaves a complex tale featuring not only the heroes and villains of his own creation, but his fresh new takes on classic characters like the Black Bat, Heap, and Black Terror, as well as the historical figures who become major players in this alternate history. And G�tterd�mmerung, the sudden turbulent fall, is an appropriate description of what happens to every group of heroes, villains and demons involved in the story. Including an ending which shakes the Sovereign City universe to its very foundation.

This is the epic hero crossover you wish the editors at Street and Smith and Standard would have granted their readers back in the heyday of the pulps.

Heinrich Himmler was nervous. He sat perfectly still, barely touching his food, as the F�ehrer ate in front of him. They were sitting outside on a patio, enjoying a sunny day at Hitler�s mountain home, The Berghof, and Himmler found himself unable to appreciate the lovely view the site provided.

�You aren�t hungry?� the Austrian asked, gesturing at Himmler�s plate with a fork. �Herr Kannenberg will be insulted.�

�Your chef�s culinary skills are second to none, Mein F�ehrer.� Himmler reached up and pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. �Alas, I had a large breakfast.�

Hitler nodded and finished his own meal. A vegetarian, Hitler was quite exacting about the quality of his food and the Bavarian chef was rightfully renowned for the savory and rich creations he produced.

When he was done, Hitler dabbed at the corners of his mouth and set his napkin on the table. Immediately, servants appeared and carried away the plates. �I want to talk to you about The Ahnenerbe.�

Himmler nodded, having known that this moment was coming. The Ahnenerbe had been founded in 1935 by Himmler, Herman Wirth, and Richard Walther Darre, with the express purpose of providing new evidence of the accomplishments and merits of their Germanic ancestors. To that purpose, they had chosen the name Ahnenerbe, which meant �Inheritance of the Forefathers.� To the public, they went by the rather ostentatious name of Forschungs und Lehrgemeinschaft das Ahnenerbe e.V., which translated in English as �The Research and Teaching Community of the Ancestral Heritage, registered society.� It was all a bit showy, even for Himmler, who believed in its purpose with all his black heart.

�What would you like to know, Mein F�ehrer?� he asked, hoping his voice betrayed no concern.

�The group has grown by leaps and bounds,� Hitler pointed out, leaning forward and staring at Himmler with the intensity that so spellbound his followers. �And I have approved of this at every stage. When you asked for 300,000 Reichsmark to build that headquarters in the Dahlem neighborhood of Berlin, did I balk? No! And when you started opening all those departments of research, I nodded and said, �Good, Good.� Isn�t this so?�

�You have always been very supportive,� Himmler confirmed.

�And all of the expeditions related to the group � all approved and very good. But now I learn of something called� the Geheimnisvolles Kraft-Projekt? It seems very expensive and I know nothing of it!� Hitler�s eyes blazed now and he reached across the table to tap it with a forefinger. �You do not keep secrets from me, Heinrich. Ever.�

�I did not mean to do so,� Himmler stammered, feeling sweat on his upper lip. �The Occult Forces Project is something quite radical and I wanted to have several successes before I unveiled it to you. I only wanted to please you.�

�Successes,� Hitler repeated. �Like Strauss and Raeder?�

Himmler failed to hide his surprise and Hitler suddenly smiled.

�Yes, I know of them. I know everything you�ve been doing. Nothing escapes my attention.� Hitler stared hard at him, that smile still on his lips. �And I am pleased!�

Himmler relaxed, letting loose a breath that he hadn�t even realized he�d been holding. �You are?�

�Of course! A new breed of German soldier to combat the likes of Leonid Kaslov, The Peregrine and Lazarus Gray? It is much needed! Those degenerates are capable of seizing the public�s mind and we need to answer it and show our superiority. I have already spoken to Goebbels and he will ensure that the press covers them to the fullest.� Hitler paused and added, �But they need names that speak to the people.�

Himmler thought it over and replied, �They have codenames we use for their files. Strauss is known as Geist and Raeder is The Silver Wolf.�

�Good, good. All future creations will have the same sort of thing. Understood?�

�Of course, Mein F�ehrer!�

�And we have more of these soldiers on the way?�

�Many more! And not just soldiers� We have plans for things that could be much, much bigger. We are looking into the very forces of creation itself!� Himmler felt emboldened and added, �From a public relations standpoint, we may even have something in the works that Goebbels could work his magic on.�

�Go on.�

�You�re familiar with the story of Baron Eric Von Emmelmann?� Seeing the F�ehrer�s nod, Himmler said, �He was a great German hero before his plane was shot down over a Polish swamp in 1918. Amazingly, he has somehow survived, though in greatly altered form. Through sheer force of will, he clung to the smallest shred of life, even as his body decayed and melded with the vegetation around him. His body is now a heap of plant-life and human flesh but there is an intelligence in those alien eyes!� Himmler sighed. �Unfortunately, he escaped his holding cell and is now somewhere loose in the countryside but he will soon be back in our grasp. His survival is proof of the strength of German will!�

Hitler stood up and moved to stand beside Himmler, who quickly rose as well. �You have done good things, Heinrich. Germany needs more men like you.�

�Thank you, Mein F�ehrer!�

�Now, let us go down to the car and drive back to Berlin. I wish to see your new creations up close.� He placed a hand on Himmler�s arm and added, �I think great things lie ahead with your OFP. Our enemies will learn to fear them soon enough, eh?�

�That they will,� Himmler agreed, now feeling much more confident. He had been worried that Hitler would balk at the tremendous costs involved with the OFP but he realized he should have known better. When it came to ensuring German superiority, the F�ehrer would stop at nothing.

The Occult Forces Project was going to soon change not just Germany and The Reich� but the entire world. Himmler had every confidence in that.

It pulsed like an angry scar on his finger and Max Davies found his eyes drifting down to it again and again. A few weeks ago, he�d found himself in battle with an agent of dark gods; a man known as Nyarlathotep. Their combat had ended with the villain�s defeat but it had come at a terrible price: the demonic entity had uttered foul words before he�d met his end at Max�s hands.

�I curse you and your line, Mr. Davies. You shall know only madness and despair.�

Those words kept echoing in Max�s head. Adorning the pinky finger of his right hand was a ring, one whose stone was all that remained of Nyarlathotep�s black heart. It was constantly warm and, as Max had discovered to his mutual disgust and amusement, it burned the flesh of those with evil souls.

Max had used it on three men so far, branding their foreheads with the mark of a bird in flight. They would be disfigured forevermore, known to one and all as evil men who had crossed the path of The Peregrine.

Melodramatic? Perhaps. Especially when coupled with the words that Max had decided to recite whenever he used the ring�When the good is swallowed by the dark, there The Peregrine will plant his mark!

He�d been attracted to the strange and the bizarre long before he�d crossed paths with Nyarlathotep, but since then it had gotten much, much worse. Now it seemed like scarcely a week went by when he didn�t find himself fighting mummies, vampires or demonic sorcerers. Hell, he�d spent last night pouring over rumors in the mystic community about a ghost island called Hy-Brasil, which was set to return to the physical plane in the next year or so.

Shaking his head, Max couldn�t help but wonder if his life would ever bear any semblance to �normal.� He had been lucky enough to find a woman who was not only willing to marry him with clear knowledge of the weirdness that constantly plagued him but who was also brave enough to start a family with him.

He swore to try and make sure she�d never regret that decision.

Shaking off his reverie, he focused on the task at hand. He was crouched low in the rafters of an abandoned warehouse in downtown Atlanta. His knees ached from the position that he�d held for the last half hour. Down below, two groups of men were meeting � one representing the Declare Family, prominent figures in the Southeast underworld, the other set were representatives of the Italian mobs from up North. The Declares had been hit with hard times as of late, mostly because of The Peregrine�s impact on organized crime. As such, they�d done something that only a few years ago would have seemed absurd � they�d reached out to the mob, offering a share of their profits in exchange for help in dealing with their �bird problem.�

From the moment that The Peregrine had learned of this meeting, he�d planned to bust it up and bring all these men to justice, but out of curiosity, he�d held off in hopes of learning something useful. Unfortunately, to this point it had all been the usual posturing and preening as the men had tried to look powerful in front of one another. He was just about to jump down and start the festivities when one of the Italians � Vinnie, Max remembered � said something that gave him reason to pause.

�Now, I think we�re all in agreement about financial matters but I imagine that you boys are curious about how we�re going to deal with dis Peregrine fella. Am I right or am I right?�

Jackson Declare, who was pushing seventy and weighed close to three hundred pounds, leaned across the table and smiled. �You�re right. This ain�t no typical guy. I�ve personally seen The Peregrine take on a dozen men in a firefight and walk away unscathed, which is a hell of a lot more than I can say for the poor fools he was taking on.�

Vinnie nodded, reaching into his expensive coat and producing a pack of cigarettes. He offered one to Declare, who politely declined. After lighting up, Vinnie said, �Atlanta�s not the only place dealing with masked vigilantes, you know? It�s like some sort of plague, spreading from coast to coast. But in other towns, people have had some success. So I called in a few favors and got a mask killer to come down. He killed The Red Flame out in Kansas City, Miss Mystery in Chicago and even Mysterioso in Brooklyn.�

�He killed a dame?� Declare asked, shock in his voice.

�Raped her first but yeah. He�s not somebody you mess around with.�

Declare�s face wrinkled in disgust. It was obvious that he didn�t think much of men who abused women. Max found that commendable but it didn�t excuse the multitude of crimes he�d been involved in. �And where is this mask killer of yours?�

�Right here.�

All heads, including The Peregrine�s, turned towards a shadowy corner. A figure emerged and Max had to admit that he was impressed. He�d had no idea that this silent observer had been present.

The man wore a black suit and tie. His skin was swarthy and he had a handlebar moustache. The attire and facial grooming made him look like an Old West villain. This impression was enhanced by the fact that he wore a pistol holstered around his right thigh and another at his waist. There was a series of scars around one of his eyes that made Max think that someone � a woman, most likely � had scratched him badly at some point.

Declare was on his feet now and his men had drawn their weapons. The atmosphere was suddenly very tense.

�No need for that,� the hero killer said. �My name�s Nimrod.�

�What the hell kind of name is that?�

�It�s Biblical,� Nimrod answered. �Grandson of Noah. A mighty hunter and man of power.� Shrugging, he added, �It�s a good book. You ought to read it sometime.�

�I go to Sunday School,� Declare snapped. He gestured for his men to relax and he looked Nimrod up and down, critically examining him. �You really think you can deal with The Peregrine? He�s not some amateur like you�re probably used to.�

�He�s a man, isn�t he? That means he bleeds and he can die� and I have a lot of experience killing.�

�He�s not some skirt, though,� Declare continued. �So if you�re used to manhandling dames, you�ll find him tougher than that.�

The Peregrine smiled softly. He was beginning to like Declare despite himself.

Nimrod chuckled. �I�m good at what I do. I�ve been here for hours � hours before you folks even arrived, in fact. I figured I should stake it out just in case.�

The Peregrine tensed. He didn�t like the sound of that.

Nimrod continued, �And do you know what I saw? A little birdy came and perched up in the rooftop. I�m sure he�s had a nice view.�

�What are you talking�?� Declare�s voice trailed off as the meaning became clear. He looked up suddenly, urging his men to do the same. The Peregrine cursed under his breath as one of the goons spotted him at last.

In seconds, numerous weapons covered him. If they�d chosen to open fire at that point, he probably would have been a dead man.

Luckily for him, Nimrod stepped forward and said, �How about I earn my keep right now and kill him right in front of you?�

The Peregrine took that as his cue to go into action. He pushed off from the rafters and performed the kind of acrobatic flip that would have wowed an Olympic judge. He landed in a crouch and then stood up, unable to hide the smile on his face. He couldn�t help it. Sometimes, even in the face of death, he found himself enjoying his work.

�You know,� he said, projecting as much bravado as possible, �if you�re going to play with masked vigilantes and use a dramatic name like Nimrod, you need to raise your game a bit. Wear a mask yourself or at least put on a bit of makeup. Otherwise, you�re just playing at it.�

Nimrod chuckled. He reached down and unbuckled his guns, tossing them onto the table where Declare and Vinnie had been seated a moment before. �I don�t think I�m going to need these. I�m going to kill you with my bare hands.�

The Peregrine noted that mafia goons were circling them but still keeping their distance. He wasn�t quite sure how he was going to get out of this situation and he felt like a fool for not having shared the information about the meeting with his friend Will McKenzie. The town�s top law enforcement official could have swooped in right now with a bunch of cops and The Peregrine would have been quite grateful.

Nimrod didn�t wait for The Peregrine to respond verbally. He struck first, delivering a backhanded blow to the side of Max�s head. It left Max�s ears ringing but was intended more to insult than truly harm.

The Peregrine was quite comfortable with hand-to-hand combat, however. He had been trained by no less than the famed Warlike Manchu, after all, and was considered one of the ten best fighters in over a dozen different techniques.

A flurry of quick punches and kicks came from The Peregrine but to his surprise, Nimrod blocked them all. In fact, the man seemed to be perfectly mimicking every style that Max knew.

Grinning, Nimrod whispered, �I�ve been watching you for weeks now. Saw you take down Declare�s boys last weekend and before that, I witnessed you against those things that climbed out of the lake. You�re a talented fella and I like that.�

The Peregrine remembered both of those fights. The things from the lake had been young Deep Ones, horrible amphibious monsters that had come to Atlanta looking for easy prey. �Who trained you?� he asked, narrowly avoiding a punch to his throat.

�You might as well have,� Nimrod responded. �Once I see a move, I can copy it like I�ve always known it. Makes me the perfect hunter, don�t you think?�

The Peregrine grunted as Nimrod spun about and caught him with a kick to the midsection. It was a kick that The Peregrine had used against a Deep One, finishing him off.

Max hit the floor but rolled over and sprang up in an instant. The mood in the room had shifted now as the criminals sensed that they were about to see their hated enemy get his comeuppance.

The Peregrine wasn�t sure that they were wrong.

Nimrod continued to press his sudden advantage, not giving The Peregrine a moment to catch his breath. The villain unleashed an obscure martial arts move that The Peregrine had learned in Vietnam, driving the flat of his foot hard into the hero�s chin and then spinning about to connect with an open-palm slap to The Peregrine�s forehead. The combination left Max reeling and he was unprepared for the follow-up: a good, old-fashioned punch to the nose.

Blood flowed freely down The Peregrine�s face and he tumbled to his knees, pain momentarily blotting out all rational thought. It was just then that the worst possible thing happened � a stabbing knife of agony sliced right through The Peregrine�s brain, making him scream out loud.

Nimrod and the men watching all froze in place, uncertain what was happening. They saw The Peregrine reach up and seize the sides of his head. His face was contorting in obvious distress.

�Jesus, what did you do to the guy?� Declare asked.

Nimrod paused, giving a shrug of his shoulders. �Maybe he�s upset because he knows he�s about to get killed.�

The truth was that The Peregrine was now unaware of his surroundings. He was seeing images in his mind�s eye� horrific things full of death and destruction. Ever since he�d witnessed his father�s murder, Max Davies had been plagued by such visions and they came at a time of their choosing.

He now saw a set of dramatically-attired people, most of whom he recognized but some that the did not: he saw Lazarus Gray, the bloodthirsty vigilante known as The Gravedigger, a man dressed in a domino-style mask and, of all things, a top hat, a Negro wearing a peculiar set of emerald clothing and several others that looked too hazy for him to focus on the details.

All around these people were scenes of horror. Strange, octopus-like tentacles were writhing around them, seizing hold of their necks and limbs. He heard echoing laughter rising above all� and he saw the already infamous swastikas that were now associated with Nazi Germany being raised on scarlet flags on no less than the White House itself.

Another flash of light and sound accompanied a transition of sorts, showing The Peregrine a familiar locale: 6196 Robeson Avenue, the home of Lazarus Gray. The building was aglow with some sort of mystic power and a skeletal man dressed in dark clothing was on the roof, bearing aloft a crystal ball.

The visions faded as quickly as they had emerged and The Peregrine shook his head to help clear them away. He remembered now where he had been and as he looked around, he saw Nimrod had reclaimed one of his pistols and was now standing above The Peregrine, the barrel pushed up against the hero�s forehead.

Acting quickly, The Peregrine seized Nimrod�s hand and yanked the pistol towards Declare. Applying sudden pressure, The Peregrine caused Nimrod to pull the trigger, sending a bullet straight into the mobster�s face.

The reaction from Declare�s men was instantaneous. The action had been so quick that many of them had never even seen The Peregrine�s movement. As a result, they suspected a double-cross, leading them to open fire not only on Nimrod but on the Italian mobsters, who then responded in kind.

Nimrod cried out as a bullet caught him in the shoulder but he was swift in his motions, diving below a table and then quickly scurrying towards an exit.

The Peregrine also elected to take the better part of valor, though he reached into his jacket and extracted a small smoke bomb. It wasn�t enough to do more than annoy those it hit, which was why he hadn�t used it upon being spotted. But in the sudden chaos, it took on a greater impact as the bullets continued to fly wildly.

The Peregrine emerged into the night air. He wiped away blood with the back of a gloved hand, noting that Nimrod had managed to effectively vanish.

I�m going to find you, The Peregrine silently swore. And next time I�m going to be prepared for your little tricks.

Confident that there would be few, if any, gangsters left alive after their gunfight ended, The Peregrine took flight and found his roadster parked down the street. The visions he�d seen were still rattling around in his head, concerning him.

He knew what he had to do, though. Before anything else, he needed to call Lazarus Gray and tell him that dark days lie ahead.

The rain was coming down hard, making the edge of the rooftop perilously slippery. The woman who stood balanced there was attractive, with long brown hair and soulful eyes. Her green dress was drenched and clung to her athletic form in the most scandalous way. It wasn�t something that Morgan Watts felt good about noticing at a time like this but he was a heterosexual man and it was impossible not to take notice.

He took one tentative step towards her, trying not to worry about the fact that he was wearing a brand new suit. It was going to be ruined after all this but in the end, his fashion woes paled next to the possibility of a woman dying.

�Stay back!� she shouted, swaying slightly. She held her arms out to help keep her balance but Morgan�s heart still swelled up into his throat.

�Come towards me,� he pleaded. �No matter what�s gone wrong in your life, there�s no reason to do this.�

The girl bit her lower lip and looked down at the street below. A crowd was gathered, comprised mostly of police and emergency workers but there were plenty of gawkers, too, even in the middle of the downpour. Inspector Cord, one of the few honest cops in Sovereign, was down there. He�d given Morgan the green light to come up and try to talk the girl down. Morgan wasn�t sure if it was because of his reputation for sweet-talking pretty girls or if Cord just genuinely had faith in him.

�I saw in the papers about the others,� she murmured.

Morgan nodded, knowing what she was talking about: six suicides in the past four days, all with victims that shouldn�t have had any reason to end their lives.

�What�s your name?� he asked, sliding a bit closer. He was still too far away to grab for her.

�Beth� Elizabeth, really, but everyone except my dad calls me Beth.�

�I bet he�s going to be so sad if you fall, Beth. Don�t do that to him.�

Beth looked up into the rain and Morgan thought she was crying from the way her shoulders moved. It was impossible to be sure since there was so much wetness already on her face. �I�ve always seen things, you know? Things that I shouldn�t.�

�Did you see something bad, Beth? Is that why you�re up here in the rain?�

�Yes.� She turned and looked at him, freezing him in place. Her eyes looked haunted and he was reminded of soldiers who had returned from The Great War, shattered inside in ways that made their physical health a secondary concern. �Sometimes I have dreams of things that come true. I wonder if the others saw it, too. The same monstrous things I did, I mean.�

To most people, those words would have sounded insane. But Morgan was a member of Assistance Unlimited and, alongside Lazarus Gray, he�d seen enough weirdness to last several lifetimes. �Whatever it is that you saw, I can help you. That�s what I do. You�ve heard of Lazarus Gray, right? I work with him.�

�He�s going to fail. They�re all going to fail. And then we all die.� Beth closed her eyes and lowered her head. �I�m too much of a coward to wait for it to come. I couldn�t bear that� horror.�

Morgan saw her foot lift off the roof�s edge and he called her name in sudden horror. He lunged towards her, arms outstretched, but it was too late.

He made it to the edge and peered over, seeing her body tumbling down. She twisted at the last minute, her face now turned towards his.

Her expression was one of relief.

She smiled at him� and then she hit the ground.

Samantha Grace had rarely seen Morgan look so deflated. He was seated in one of the offices located at 6196 Robeson Avenue, home to Assistance Unlimited. He had a warm blanket thrown over his shoulders and he was holding a steaming cup of coffee in his hands but she could see that he was shivering in his wet clothes, which he�d refused to take off.

The pretty young blonde was one of Sovereign City�s most sought-after figures, not only for her head-turning good looks but also because her family was so well known. More than just a shapely d�butante, Samantha was skilled in multiple languages and was capable of besting men twice her size in unarmed combat. None of that was as useful to Lazarus Gray as her ability to sense the emotions of others and make them feel better about their situation. It was a natural gift and one that came in handy on an almost daily basis.

�You did all you could,� she said, taking a seat beside him. She put a hand around his shoulders and rubbed his back. Once upon a time, she knew that he�d carried a large torch for her, but eventually they�d developed a sibling-style relationship that suited them both.

�There�s something weird going on,� he replied. �Those visions she was talking about� I don�t think she was crazy, Samantha. There�s something to it.� He paused and then added, �I never told you everything that I saw during that affair with The Claw[1] but it� it was pretty awful. And I�m afraid that this might be tied into it. There are terrible things out there and they�re just waiting for the right moment to strike. Nightmarish things.�

Samantha could see how much it pained her friend to even discuss what he�d seen in the vaguest of terms. �Lazarus is supposed to be back from his honeymoon in the next day or so. We�ll tell him all about it and I�m sure he�ll know what to do.�

Morgan shrugged off her touch and stood up. �She was barely twenty-five years old.�

Samantha said nothing for a moment, letting her friend pace and stew. When she did speak, she asked, �Do you want to get started on the answers without waiting for Lazarus? No reason why we can�t get the ball rolling.�

�How do you recommend we do that? He�s the one with the connections to the supernatural community.�

�I�m not entirely helpless in that regard,� she said with an enigmatic smile.

�I�m not in the mood to play guessing games,� he said. Though the words sounded testy, Samantha could see that he was glad to have some forward momentum again. He was looking at her very hopefully.

Rising, Samantha moved to the door and said over her shoulder, �Let me make a phone call. Five minutes tops, and then we�ll have all the help we could ever need.�

Gifted was the name given to humans that possessed the natural ability to tap into the most primal forces in existence � the stuff that normal humans called Magic.

The Catalyst was the High Mage of his era and generally only one existed per century, though their reign sometimes varied in length and occasionally overlapped. They could be recognized not only by their power but by a peculiar uniform that went along with the responsibility of wielding that much magical ability: an emerald set of clothing that changed appearance with the times but always bore a similar look.

The Catalyst of the last century had been Andre Thierry and he still occupied that role at the present time, though he knew that he would soon turn the power and the title over to another. In fact, one could argue that he should have done it already. After all, he had died back in 1903.

Kept mobile by the power of his own will, Andre had continued to defend the world since then but his abilities had waned and there were days when he looked so dusty and dry that he thought he might blow away in a hard wind.

He was old, so ancient that his shoulders were bent forward as if they�d carried a large weight for far too long. He was also a Creole, born and raised in Louisiana. His skin and hair were such that he could never pass for a white man but neither did the Negroes accept him.

A man of two worlds, he had often been called, generally by people who had no idea just how true that was.

Recently, he had traveled to Sovereign City on two different occasions. The first had been to help Lazarus Gray combat the twin threats of The Three Sisters and the immortal Princess Femi. The second had been a happier time, as he�d helped provide an appropriate level of protection for the wedding of Lazarus and his longtime love, Kelly Emerson. Since then, he�d returned to New Orleans and enjoyed a bit of respite from the usual craziness that defined his existence.

As he sat in his tiny home, a brazier of incense burning at his left and a half-empty bottle of wine to his right, Andre realized that the recent wedding had reawakened desires that he�d thought long dead. It had been decades since he�d been with a woman and he�d considered that part of his life to be over. After all, his animated dead state left him where he could fulfill numerous physical desires but they were no longer necessary or even ones that pleased him any longer. The wine was flavorful and pleasant but it could not take him to a drunken state, for instance.

Now he wondered if a woman would find his slightly cool-to-the-touch body pleasing in the way that it once would have been.

The ringing of his phone snapped him out of his reverie. He�d just been fondly recalling a caramel-colored beauty that had taught him quite a bit in his younger days. Sighing, he rose from his chair and approached the noisy device. It was one of the so-called modern conveniences that he had not learned to truly appreciate.

�Oui?� he asked, unable to keep the annoyance from seeping into his voice. When he heard the soft voice that came in reply, however, all of that was forgotten. He was genuinely pleased to hear from one of his new friends.

Their conversation was short and to the point. By the time he�d hung up the phone, Andre�s mood was both alert and somber. Samantha�s words had sent a trickle of fear down his spine, for they did not bode well.

He had felt tremors in the ether for days but hadn�t been able to pinpoint their meaning or cause. Apparently, other sensitives had detected it as well, but whereas he�d only gotten vague impressions of unease, they had seen something more substantial� and awful.

He would do some research and contact a few associates before returning to Sovereign. Something dark and awful was lurking at the edge of his consciousness and he realized that what he�d been enjoying was just the calm before a terrible storm.

Lazarus Gray and his bride descended the stairs and stepped onto the rain-slicked tarmac of Sovereign City Airport. Kelly was clutching a large umbrella but Lazarus was just outside of its protective cover. It was only drizzling at the moment but with the Sovereign weather, you never knew when it might turn ugly.

In that way, the weather was a lot like the rest of the town.

The newlyweds made an impressive couple. Lazarus was tall and broad-shouldered, with hair that was more grayish-silver than brown. As such, he looked older than he actually was. His eyes were mismatched: one was a glittering emerald, the other a dull brown. His face was handsome and well-formed but there was an odd stiffness to it, as if his expression rarely veered away from the serious cast it currently possessed. His eyes were continuously moving but not with any sign of nervousness. His gaze was like that of a predator constantly on the lookout for new prey.

Kelly Emerson Gray was nearly his equal in height even without heels. Amazonian in stature and beauty, her red curly hair hung loosely about her shoulders. She wore jodhpurs and a man�s button-down shirt. Her calf-high leather boots were scuffed and showed signs of heavy use.

They had arrived without fanfare, having only called ahead to Eun Jiwon so that he could meet them with a car. They found the young Korean-American standing beside the black roadster. He was leaning against the hood, arms folded over his chest. He smiled and stood up straight as they approached and he seemed oblivious to the sprinkling rain.

�Lazarus!� he bellowed. He moved forward and embraced his employer, who responded a bit stiffly. To Kelly, he flashed a broad grin and tipped his cap.

�Have we missed anything of note?� Lazarus asked, putting away their bags and then sliding into the backseat next to his bride.

Kelly remained silent, aside from a brief hello to Eun. Lazarus had been very good on their honeymoon, seemingly focusing only on her though she�d caught his eyes roaming hungrily over newspaper headlines a time or two. She�d never known him to go so long without adventure, though she liked to think that she�d slaked that particular thirst with physical pleasures during the trip.

The good lord knew she was exhausted from her efforts in that regard�

Eun drove them away from the airport and said, �Rash of suicides and Morgan learned that the people killing themselves are having visions of some horrible future.�

�So we only missed the usual sorts of things,� Kelly murmured under her breath. She knew that Lazarus heard her but he directed his response to Eun.

�We�ll need to call in someone for consultation, I would think.�

�Samantha�s already on it. She called Catalyst. He�s supposed to be on his way.�

�Good.� Lazarus looked out the window, watching as the citizenry scurried about on the slick streets. They looked even more forlorn than usual and that was saying something. There was an ambiance to Sovereign City that spoke of lost idealism and tarnished dreams. It seeped into the bones and souls of the people who called the city home, leading many into lives of degradation and crime.

Even Lazarus and his friends had felt the pull of despair from time to time. That they had been able to rise above it was a sign of their inner strength. In this, they were not completely unique. Kelly, Inspector Cord, and others had done the same but they were definitely in the minority.

Eun pulled the car into the garage at 6196 Robeson Avenue and turned off the engine. �Should I try to contact the other special agents in the city?�

The term �special agents� was slang that Assistance Unlimited used to describe men and women who, like themselves, put their lives on the line in the war against evil. Sovereign was home to several of these: Doc Daye, Fortune McCall, The Dark Gentleman and Gravedigger, to name just a few.

�I�ll contact Daye and McCall and let them know what we�ve found out. Perhaps they have something to add.�

Eun nodded, not surprised by the response. There were definite levels to the special agents in the city, both in terms of scope of power and level of trustworthiness.

Kelly slid out of the car as her husband held the door for her. �Can�t believe I�m about to call this place home. Did you know that when I was a little girl, we stayed in this hotel for a few days when our house flooded? Seemed so opulent back then.�

�I like to think we�ve restored it well,� Lazarus said.

�Oh, you have! It�s beautiful. I just never imagined that I�d be living in it someday.�

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 crime busting enterprise. The centerpiece of his holdings was a three-story structure that had once been a hotel. Gray�s 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. It was there that Kelly would now be moving all of her things.

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

�I suppose this place is so big that if we have a spat, we could go days without having to see one another,� Kelly deadpanned.

�I don�t plan to fight with you.� Lazarus took his wife�s hand in his own. �I�m smart enough to let you have your way.�

�Oh, I think this marriage is off to a fine start!� Kelly pulled away and said, �Now I�m going to take my bags inside and start unpacking. After that, I�ll call daddy and let him know we�re back.� She tapped Lazarus on the chest. �You go save the city or the world or whatever needs saving. I�ll see you when you�re done.�

Li Yuchun was a gorgeous young woman. Born of Chinese-American descent, she had long raven-black hair and the sort of figure that combined the best of both races. She was petite and youthful-looking but possessed of the sorts of curves that were generally associated with Western girls. In her late twenties, she retained a youthfulness that helped snag appreciative glances from every man she passed.

It wasn�t just her appearance that made her a useful agent in Gravedigger�s army of operatives, however. She was possessed of two dangerous traits: insatiable curiosity and fearlessness. This had saved her life on numerous occasions but had just as frequently led her to death�s door.

Today, she was sitting alone in the sort of bar that good girls simply didn�t enter. To be fair, she�d never been the sort of woman for whom that description would have been an apt one. In fact, she�d been in this same tavern too many times to count and there were many men present who considered her a natural part of the scenery. Since joining forces with Gravedigger, she�d cleaned up her act but there were still times when she needed to slum it up to gain much needed information.

While the city was buzzing over the rash of suicides, Gravedigger had been concerned with a series of bloody murders that were going unreported by the press. The reason? The victims were all women with tawdry reputations and the men in power didn�t consider their deaths to be worthy of investigation. Who cared if a whore or a down-on-her-luck floozy got her throat cut in an alley? In the judgmental eyes of many, the girls had it coming to them.

Li couldn�t stand that sort of thinking. Everybody had to do something to survive and for a woman, the options were even more limited. In a world dominated by men, sometimes all you had to barter with was your sex and while that may seem coarse to some, it was the cold, bitter truth.

�Anything?�

Li sipped her drink and reached up to adjust the jewelry that dangled from her left earlobe. The earring was far more than it appeared, since it contained a miniaturized radio transmitter. Mitchell, the hulking British member of the group, had put it together. It was an amazing piece of work but not quite as advanced as Li would have liked. She was able to hear Gravedigger�s voice as quickly as if the woman were sitting right next to her, for instance, but the only way she had to reply was by squeezing the earring with her fingers. By doing so in the right order of long and short squeezes, she was able to communicate with her employer via Morse code.

Li was pretty sure that Assistance Unlimited didn�t have Samantha Grace squeezing her earlobe for minutes at a time! Still, the group was pretty lucky to have as much technology as they did and Li realized this.

She had just transmitted the word �No� when a masculine presence slid into the seat next to her. She smelled his cologne before anything else � a bit too strong but not entirely unpleasant. He was in his early forties with short-cropped black hair and deep-set eyes. He wore a rumpled suit and in his left hand was the sort of bag that a doctor might carry. He set it on the floor and smiled at Li. It was a predator�s smile but whether that meant he was a killer or just on the prowl for easy sex, she wasn�t sure yet.

�Hello, beautiful,� the stranger said. His voice was rough and his accent didn�t seem to fit with the doctor�s bag that he carried. Gravedigger had suspected that the killer might be a butcher or some sort of amateur surgeon, given the rough knowledge of anatomy that he�d displayed in his killings.

Instantly, Li gave her earring transmitter the signal for �Yes� and leaned in to allow the man a better view of her cleavage. �Good evening. Looking for a little companionship?�

�I am. Are you willing to spend a little quality time with me� in exchange for me making it worth your while?�

Li pursed her lips as if giving it some thought. �Well, how worth my while would it be? And I don�t even know your name.�

�Tom. And I�d make sure you were happy with the transaction.� He reached into his coat and pulled out a wad of cash, rolled up with a rubber band. �Interested?�

�Where do you want to go?�

�I figured we�d get to know each other out back. If things seem agreeable, I�ll take you back to my place.�

�I don�t know. I�m not usually one to do those kinds of things.� Li�s pink tongue darted out and touched the corner of her mouth before vanishing quickly.

Tom chuckled. �I�m sure you�re a good girl, baby, but everybody�s got to live a little, right? C�mon� I�m safe.�

Li took his hand and allowed him to lead her through the smoky environs. They emerged into the alley behind the club, their surroundings lit only by a small flickering light bulb that was situated above the back door.

Tom wasted no time getting down to business. He pushed Li against the exterior wall of the building and his mouth found hers, his tongue pushing forcefully past her lips. She allowed him access, trying not to think about how jealous Cedric would be if he saw her now. Their relationship was still tenuous, given her free-spirited nature and his more traditional values but she didn�t want to intentionally want to hurt him.

Li gasped as Tom�s teeth scraped across her bottom lip. �Not so rough, lover,� she whispered.

Tom�s answer was a harsh laugh. He backed away, his hand vanishing back into his coat. �I�ll pay you for the pain, baby.� Instead of the wad of money, however, his hand came back with a small vial of a clear liquid. Now Li was fully on alert, given the fact that the previous victims had been murdered out in the open and had never called for help, Gravedigger assumed that they were being drugged somehow.

Tense and ready for action, Li suddenly froze in relief. From the shadowy rooftop descended a figure draped in red, white and black. She wielded a sword like it was an extension of her body and landed in a crouch that she quickly sprang out of.

Tom whirled about, his mouth dropping open as he came face-to-face with Sovereign�s most fearsome vigilante: Charity Grace, the woman known to the underworld as Gravedigger.

If this were Lazarus Gray or any of the other heroes in the city, Tom would have been brought to justice and questioned so that they could understand how and why he had done these awful things.

Gravedigger had no time for that.

Charity Grace had been a down-on-her-luck thief before she�d broken into the home of Josef Goldstein. She�d died that night, shot by Goldstein himself, but she�d been revived in her own coffin, awakened by the mysterious Voice. It had offered her a second chance at life but only if she would agree to be its servant on earth, striking down all those who would prey upon the innocent. She was given three years before she would be judged again. If she washed away the sins that weighed upon her soul, she would be freed of her burden. But if she were found wanting, eternal damnation awaited.

As such, Gravedigger was all about action. She frankly couldn�t care less what sickness had driven Tom to butcher these women. All she wanted was to stop him.

As such, Tom had only a second of regret. Then Gravedigger was in motion, her sword whistling through the air. The blade cut easily through flesh and bone, separating the murder�s head from his shoulders.

Tom�s body and head hit the ground within seconds of each other.

Blood sprayed onto Li�s face and she sputtered in annoyance. She looked down at her ruined clothing and sighed. �I go through more dresses working for you.�

Gravedigger lowered her weapon and shrugged. �I pay you enough to buy new ones.�

�What if he was just carrying handcuffs in that bag of his and the vial was just booze?� Li wiped blood off her face with the back of her hands, watching as Gravedigger knelt down and opened Tom�s black bag. It was filled with enough sharp implements to give even Li a bit of pause.

�He wasn�t innocent,� Gravedigger whispered. �No one is.�

Charity Grace was the second Gravedigger that Mitchell Williams had served. During his youth, he�d fallen in with a rough crowd but his life had changed for the better when he�d been caught committing a crime by Josef Goldstein, the man who had preceded Charity in this costumed role. Goldstein had spared his life and taught him to be something better. For that, he would always be grateful.

A black man from England, Mitchell was something of a dichotomy to many people in America. Because of his tremendous size and the color of his skin, it was generally assumed that he would be plodding and unintelligent. The exact opposite was true, however. He was quick thinking, well-spoken and possessed a brilliant tactical mind. All of those attributes made him a powerful weapon in Gravedigger�s arsenal.

It also made him her most trusted aide � and her lover.

Mitchell was standing outside a burning building on the city�s east side. It was a tenement, home to as many rats as human beings. As such, the firefighters weren�t throwing themselves into harm�s way and were instead content to allow the hovel to burn to the ground. Not a one of them had done more than flinch when the sound of a baby crying had cut through the night air and a young mother had begun screeching that her child was still inside.

For a moment, Mitchell had thought to rectify the matter himself. But then he�d seen him � the man he�d spent so many hours looking for: The Dark Gentleman. Of all Sovereign�s heroes, this was undoubtedly the most well-dressed. He wore a white shirt covered by a gray vest, black tie and ebony jacket. Over all of this was slung a dark opera-style cap that was clasped about his neck. With dark slacks and shoes, as well as leather gloves an accompanying top hat, The Dark Gentleman looked like he had stopped off on his way to a fancy ball. It was only the presence of the automatic in his right hand and the large domino-style mask that he wore that gave one pause.

The crowd had spotted The Dark Gentleman upon his arrival and a gasp had spread quickly amongst them. The masked man was on the flaming rooftop and he�d disappeared inside, seemingly with no concern for his own safety.

Seconds had stretched into minutes and Mitchell had begun to shift uneasily. The roof suddenly gave way, crashing inward and nearly bringing the entire structure down with it. Just as everyone backed away in horror, sure that both the infant and the hero were dead, a figure emerged.

The Dark Gentleman sprinted from the inferno, his opera cape wrapped tightly around the baby that he carried. He rushed past the firefighters and went straight to the crying mother, who accepted his precious parcel with great emotion. Before anyone could stop him, The Dark Gentleman was off again, rushing through the crowd and vanishing into the darkness.

Mitchell smiled in admiration. The man had style�

Several minutes later, Mitchell returned to his parked car. He was not surprised to see The Dark Gentleman waiting nearby.

�Mind telling me why you�ve been hounding me all night?� the masked man asked. His gun was nowhere to be seen but Mitchell was sure that it would take only seconds to reappear if needed.

�My employer would like to speak to you.�

�And who would that be?�

�Gravedigger.�

The look of surprise that flickered across The Dark Gentleman�s face lasted only a few seconds but Mitchell�s keen eyes detected it quite clearly. �I�ve heard of her,� the masked man replied. He reached up and removed his top hat, shaking off soot and debris before replacing it. �Is she looking to lop my head off? I think that�s her usual method of dispatching her foes, isn�t it?�

�She doesn�t consider you an enemy.� Mitchell moved closer and leaned back against the door to the car. He folded his arms over his well-muscled chest and added, �In fact, she wants you to work with her.�

�How are the benefits? Do I get a lot of time off? Does she include any medical?�

�You�re funny. I hadn�t heard that.�

�Maybe most people don�t consider my humor all that memorable.� The Dark Gentleman turned away. �I appreciate the interest but I work alone� and I don�t generally deal with murderers. I trust the justice system to do its job without me becoming judge, jury, and executioner.�

�Michael Groseclose.�

The Dark Gentleman spun about and now his pistol was in hand. �Why did you say that?�

Mitchell straightened, lifting both hands in a submissive gesture. �No need for that, friend. I just wanted you to understand that we know a lot about you.�

�Is that a threat?�

�Not at all. Just that we know who you are and why you do this� and that�s why we think you�d fit in with our crew.�

�And what do you think you know?�

�Your father is Theodore Groseclose. He owns a string of papers but the one that�s most important around here is The Sovereign Gazette. He�s not a bad man but he�s been in bed with the wrong crowd for years and sometimes turns a blind eye to stories that could embarrass them. You�re offended by that and think that his wealth should be used to lift the city up out of its cesspool. Finding yourself unable to convince him to do that, you took matters into your own hands as The Dark Gentleman. You�re smart and athletic but your best weapon seems to be your incredible luck. You survive things that a normal man simply shouldn�t.�

�I like to think I�ve got friends upstairs who are looking out for me.� The Dark Gentleman lowered his gun but didn�t put it away. �If you�re thinking you can blackmail me, you�re wrong.�

Mitchell sighed. �Gravedigger kills her enemies, that�s true, but there are reasons for that. Come with me and meet her. If you�re still not interested after that, you can walk away and we�ll all pretend it never happened. But if you�re the man I think you are, you�ll be intrigued. We can help each other.�

For a long moment, The Dark Gentleman didn�t say anything. He was staring hard at Mitchell, as if trying to peer into the dark-skinned man�s soul. Finally, he holstered his pistol and gestured to the car. �Mind if I ride with you?�

Mitchell smiled broadly. �I�d be honored.�

There were three of them, heavily bundled up in snow gear: two men, both in their mid-fifties, with one woman, who was in her early thirties. All of them were very fit and easily ascended the mountain using their ropes and climbing hooks.

When they reached the summit, it was Dieter Schneider who spoke first, pushing the goggles he wore off his eyes and studying their surroundings. �My friends,� he muttered in German, �We have done it.�

Sonya moved up to her father�s side and took his hand. She knew how much this meant to him and she shared his excitement. If their research was correct, then this would ensure the victory of the Reich. Her father would be treated like royalty by the F�ehrer and all of their names would become legends. �I always knew your theories would bear fruit, father.�

The third member of their party sounded less confident. �We should hold off on the celebrations, I think.� Lars Hansel was a soldier, sent along to make sure that Dieter and his daughter, both scientists, stayed on task. When they�d set off on this mission, their party had numbered nearly a dozen but the treacherous mountains and an unexpectedly severe ice storm had thinned the ranks considerably.

Sonya turned and regarded Lars with thinly disguised fury. �You have doubted my father from the first moment, Lieutenant. And yet here we stand, in front of the gates. How can you still be so contrary?�

�Because what you call gates look to me like nothing more than a set of rocks blocking a cave�s entrance.�

Dieter squeezed his daughter�s hand and then pulled away. She fell silent and Dieter nodded at Lars. �You are right, of course. It will do no one any good to make undue assumptions.� He moved forward and studied what they�d found: a huge cavern entrance, cut off by a series of boulders. He looked up and could see no place where they could have fallen from. They had been picked up and moved here, of that he was sure. The work involved would have been immense given the location and the weight of the rocks.

Speaking in a professorial voice, Dieter said, �Last night we saw a goat and this morning a stag. I believe these to be Hei�r�n and Eik�yrnir, as described in the old tales.�

Lars grunted, ignoring the looks he was continuing to receive from Sonya. The girl was attractive but she was wasted on such academic matters, in his opinion. She could have best served the Fatherland by producing strong male children.

Dieter continued on. �Within the great hall are half of all those who died in battle. Great kings and heroes of the Norse people wait within, practicing battle by day and feasting by night. They are training for the coming of Ragnarok, when they will return and engage in the final battle that will end with the renewal of the world.�

�Pardon me, Professor, but if I recall correctly, the golden tree Glasir is supposed to stand before the great hall. The most beautiful tree in all the world, and yet I see no sign of it.� Lars had stripped off his goggles and gloves. Though none of them had really thought of its significance, it was much warmer here in front of the cave and all of them were beginning to feel stifled by their heavy clothing.

Dieter frowned. �You�re right. I can only say that my research said the Hall was here and we�ve found what, to me, appears to be an entrance. If we can somehow clear it and explore inside, we can prove or disprove my notion.�

Now it was Lars who approached the rocks. He brought his great strength to bear on one of the rocks and with tremendous effort, he was able to push it several feet. �That�s not going to be easy, especially if I�m the only one working to clear the way.�

�Listen!� Sonya hissed.

Both men fell silent. For a moment, Lars thought she was just being annoying but then he heard it, too. A scuttling sound, as if someone were pushing against the boulders, but from the other side.

�Impossible,� he whispered. When several of the rocks began to shift, rolling slightly in his direction, Lars fell back. �Get over to the edge of the cliff,� he ordered, drawing his pistol.

Dieter and Sonya did as they were told, each of them lost in a confused mix of excitement and fear.

Lars saw the heavy rocks slide away, one of them suddenly rolling with such force that it went tumbling right off the side of the cliff. In less than three minutes, the passage was cleared, leaving behind a massive portal into darkness.

�Stay there,� he hissed. He crept forward, peering into the gloom. He saw no one but the smell was unusual. It reminded him of a visit to his uncle�s farm during his childhood. His uncle had allowed him to watch as a cow gave birth. The odors that had emanated from the bovine�s bloody crotch had been a heady mixture � revolting and yet strangely intoxicating.

�Who are you?� a voice asked, drifting out from the cave�s mouth. It was oddly sexless and Lars wasn�t sure if the others had even heard it. It seemed to be a voice speaking directly into his brain.

�Lars Hansel. I am a lieutenant in the German army. Step out so that I may see you!�

�Why are you here?� it countered.

�The professor believes this is Valhalla. Proving its existence could help bolster our claims of Aryan superiority and the F�ehrer believes that we may be nearing Ragnarok. If so, the foot soldiers of Odin could fight on our behalf!�

There was a rasping sound, much like laughter. �Odin is not here. The gods of your people are not here. But there is power� such great power. And it sleeps in a deathless dream-state. If you help awaken it, your army will know power such as you have never conceived.�

Lars, who had always prided himself on his bravery, realized that his hands were shaking. He felt as if he were stepping into a deep, terrible abyss� and he knew beyond doubt that it was staring back at him. �Who are you and why won�t you step out into view? If you don�t identify yourself, I will fire my weapon.�

�Who are you talking to?� Sonya asked. �Can you see anyone in there?�

So that confirmed it. Sonya and her father heard nothing. Was Lars imagining it? Was there some sort of strange gas coming from the cave? He had heard of such things, fumes that could drive a man mad.

But then the voice came again and it sounded definitive. It was real. �I serve the Great Old Ones, those who ruled the stars long before man had crawled from the primordial slime. I serve the true power of the universe� Chaos! The ultimate god dances madly at the center of all things and beings such as you, and even such as I, are nothing more than specks of dust at his feet.�

�Your name!� Lars shouted. �Tell me your name!�

�I am Vulthar, the Dark and Formless. I am the Gatekeeper of the Sleeping Hunger. I serve Darhoth, the Mother of Pus, and she seeks to bring pain and decay to all living things. Birthed of an obscene union between a human female and Shub-Niggurath! She is the daughter of The Black Goat of the Woods with a Thousand Young!�

Lars lowered his weapon, his mind growing fuzzy. With every bizarre name, he felt like something was being unlocked in his mind. It was like there were puzzle pieces that he�d never known existed and hearing them given an identity was somehow detrimental to his psyche.

�Do you wish to awaken her?� Vulthar repeated. Lars now saw it. Not a normal being at all, not like a human. Vulthar was an amorphous ball of cyan-colored energy, swirling in the dark. Tendrils occasionally extended out from it, as if tasting the air the way a snake would with its tongue.

Lars felt like he was bathed in sweat. He turned to face Sonya and her father, both of whom were watching him with great concern. �Come forward,� he said. �I think we have found something even greater than Valhalla.�

�Greater?� Dieter asked dubiously. He began walking towards the cave, pulling a somewhat reluctant Sonya with him. �What do you mean?�

Tendrils suddenly shot forth, seizing hold not only of Lars but of Dieter, as well. They were yanked into the cave, their screams of terror echoing loudly. Sonya had pulled free at the last moment but she landed hard on the ground, dazed from the impact of her head against a fallen rock.

She felt the ground shifting beneath her and she heard the voice of Vulthar. �Darhoth will have need of all of you. You will serve her as I have done�.�

Less than a half hour later, the three explorers emerged from the darkness of the cave. Lars was no longer in possession of his body and if anyone had seen his unprotected eyes, this fact would have been immediately noticeable. Bottomless pools of liquid black lay in those sockets now and he hid this by putting his goggles back into place.

Sonya staggered a bit. Her body was now the living receptacle for The Mother of Pus. The ancient entity was not used to being contained within such a frail, fleshy form but it would adapt.

Dieter was the only one to have escaped such a fate. He was stunned, however, broken down by the horrors that he had seen. When The Mother of Pus had inserted herself, inch by awful inch, into his daughter�s body, all Dieter could do was cry in gratitude that it hadn�t been him instead.

The thing that wore Sonya�s face turned to face him and said, �The stars are properly aligned.� Her voice was hoarse from the screaming that Sonya had done before her soul had been devoured. �More of my kindred can be revived but we have things that must be done. I will need access to this� OFP?�

Dieter paused and then nodded. The Occult Forces Project had funded this expedition in hopes that he would return with mystic relics that could help in the creation of new super soldiers. �We must return to Berlin. I can get you inside the facility.�

�Good.� Sonya looked up into the gray skies. �I hope you can see me, Azathoth, and that you will be pleased with the chaos that is about to ensue.�

Catalyst felt like someone had just kicked him in the gut. Something terrible had just happened but he didn�t know what it was or where it had taken place. He had just arrived in Sovereign City, eager to make his appointment with Assistance Unlimited, but now he felt drained and feverish.

He strode through the streets, blinking up into the bright morning sun. He had come as fast as he could but it had still taken him several hours to complete his research and put his affairs in order.

The crowds thinned out as he approached Robeson Avenue and by the time he stepped up to the front of Assistance Unlimited�s headquarters, he was completely alone and acutely aware of the silence that surrounded him.

The front doors opened automatically, allowing him entrance. His keen sense of detection had noted that security cameras blanketed the entire block and that many of them were extraordinarily well hidden. It wouldn�t be impossible to sneak up on this building but it certainly would have required great stealth and skill.

Samantha was waiting for him in the lobby. Dressed in a mostly white floral print dress, she looked sweet and summery. The perfume that wafted off of her reminded Andre of happier days from his youth and once again brought up stirrings that he�d long thought suppressed.

�It is good to see you again, ma cherie,� he said, gallantly taking her hand and giving it the briefest brush of his lips.

Charmed, Samantha replied, �You�re looking well, Andre.�

�You�re too kind. I imagine I look nothing of the sort. Even before I heard from you, I�d been aware of something amiss in the magical realms. Now, it keeps hitting me like a wooden plank in the back of the head.�

�Well, you don�t let it show.� Letting her slim hand slip into his, she led him towards the elevator that would transport them to the large meeting room located on the second floor. �Lazarus has returned,� she said. �He�s with Eun and Morgan upstairs.�

�Has he called anyone else?�

�No, but it�s funny that you should ask. Are you familiar with The Peregrine?�

�Only by reputation. Masked vigilante from Boston, oui?�

�He�s moved down South but yes, that�s the one. He called Lazarus around dawn and said that he was on his way to Sovereign. He has these visions from time to time and he claims that he saw something that needs our attention. We�re all assuming it�s related to the rash of suicides.�

�Let us hope so,� Andre said with a chuckle. �The last thing we need is another emergency at the same time!�

True to her word, Andre found the rest of Assistant Unlimited waiting for him. Eun was seated at the room�s largest table, his feet propped up on its wood surface. Morgan was poring over the morning edition of The Sovereign Gazette and Andre could see that the front page was filled with speculation about the various suicides. Lazarus stood silently at the head of the table, his gaze fixed upon an open book that lay before him. Whatever he was reading, it didn�t seem to be lightening his mood any. He looked even more grim than usual. When he saw Andre, however, some of the tension seemed to vanish from his broad shoulders and he walked around the table with his hand extended.

�Andre!� he said. �It�s good to have you on board.�

�I sincerely appreciate that.� Andre found himself equally glad to see Lazarus. Most of his time as Catalyst had been a lonely one and it felt good to be in the presence of people who not only understood his mission but who embraced a similar one.

�I�ve been looking through old reports about mass suicides. There are many stories that connect them to visions and the effects that they have on those who are psychically sensitive.�

�Very true. It�s sad to say that these sorts of things aren�t unheard of.�

�But what does it mean?� Morgan asked. He had a kind of haunted look to his eyes that concerned Andre. �And what do we do about it?�

Before he responded, Andre thought back to what Samantha had told him on the phone. Morgan had tried to talk a young woman out of killing herself but had failed to do so and, given the guilt that the oldest member of Assistance Unlimited also felt over losing his girlfriend to the evils of Princess Femi[2], it all added up to a depressed state of mind for Morgan. �We have to trace the visions back to their source, be it a person, entity or place. Then we can deal with it.�

�Why haven�t you had a vision?� Morgan pressed. �If you�re the Catalyst, shouldn�t you have been the first to sense something was wrong?�

�I am not the man that I once was. My powers grow weaker every day. Soon, there will be another who bears my title. For now, I can tell you that I can sense that there is something wrong, but the visions have not come to me.�

Lazarus sat down and gestured for everyone else to do the same. �What do you already know and how can we help?�

�The suicides are all centered around Sovereign. I found no mention of them elsewhere. Now, we know that the early days of the city�s founding was steeped in the supernatural[3] so it should be no surprise that there are more sensitives in this area than might be found elsewhere. I think there�s more to it than that, though. I think the psychic vibrations are more pronounced here because of The Unnervum.�

Eun blinked in confusion. �What the hell is that?�

Lazarus leaned forward and answered, �In the mid-1800s, a spiritualist by the name of Helmut Lowenstein established an office in Sovereign. Within ten years, he had a thriving business performing exorcisms, contacting dead relatives, and offering advice for the future. Unlike most of his compatriots, Lowenstein was the real deal. In fact, he was known as The Ghost Finder for his skill in investigating hauntings. One of the greatest weapons in his arsenal was a crystal ball he dubbed The Unnervum. He found it on one his investigations and according to his research, it dates back to the time of King Arthur and his court. In fact, he believed that it had belonged to no less than Merlin himself.�

�But Merlin�s a fictional character, right?� Eun asked.

�Yes and no,� Lazarus said. �The standard depiction of Merlin first appears in Geoffrey of Monmouth�s Historia Regum Britanniae and was basically an amalgamation of actual historical and legendary figures. What Geoffrey did was combine the stories of Merlinus Caledonensis with the tales of Aurelius Ambrosius to create the character he dubbed Merlin Ambrosius. It�s Caledonensis that concerns us at the moment. Supposedly, he was a bard who went mad after seeing the horrors of war. He abandoned civilization and escaped into the woods, becoming a wild man who embraced nature magicks. He created The Unnervum, fashioning it out of what he called The Tears of God � a silvery fluid that fell from the sky not long after he went into the woods. The material hardened over time and became a perfect sphere, one that gave him visions of other times and places and which could also absorb the darker passions of those who came near it, leaving them feeling refreshed and ready to embrace the beauty that God had created.�

Eun shook his head, amazed once more at how strange the world really was. �Okay. So Lowenstein had this crystal ball, and it figures into the suicides because�?�

Catalyst smiled. �Because The Unnervum absorbs those negative emotions automatically. Over the years, it has become a huge storehouse for them. And it�s like a magnet, the more powerful it becomes, the more it draws those negative emotions towards it. In other words, having it in this city makes Sovereign all the more appealing to those of negative intent.�

Samantha spoke up, looking confused. �But if it leaves you feeling more hopeful and refreshed, then why isn�t Sovereign the happiest place on earth?�

�Because at some point it stopped doing that. It absorbs negative energy but it doesn�t leave behind anything in its place. The evil stuff just starts to build up again and then The Unnervum absorbs it and then the whole cycle continues once more.�

Samantha glanced at Lazarus. �Then why haven�t we found this thing and destroyed it? Or at least moved it away from Sovereign? If this story is true, then we�ll never be able to clean up the city, not as long as that horrible storehouse of evil is out there.�

�Because it�s not that simple,� Lazarus said. �Even if we could destroy it, all that would do is unleash all the stored up energy that�s contained within it. That would be very, very bad.�

�So where the hell is this thing?� Morgan asked.

�It�s buried beneath City Hall,� Lazarus responded.

The silence that followed was so pronounced that Andre had to chuckle. �Sorry, I know it�s not funny but the looks on your faces! Yes, Lazarus is correct. The current City Hall was built in 1868 after the big fire that torched most of downtown. Lowenstein believed that The Unnervum was becoming a danger. Dark forces wanted it. If they could harness its contained power, they would have become very powerful. So he made sure it was buried beneath the foundations of City Hall, where he thought no one would ever be able to get it.�

�He sounds like an idiot,� Morgan murmured. �Now we have a ball full of negative energy right beneath the mayor�s office? No wonder this town is the way it is.�

�Nevertheless,� Lazarus said, obviously ready to move on, �The Unnervum may be intensifying the visions that those poor souls have been receiving.� He fixed Catalyst with a steely gaze. �You said we need to find the source of the visions in order to stop them. Do you have a suggestion about how to do that?�

�I do, actually, and it does involve The Unnervum. My powers may be fading but if I could put my hands on that thing, I think I�d be able to get enough of a boost that I could not only receive one of those visions, I might see well past what they did. All the way back to the source.�

Samantha looked concerned. �First, that sounds very dangerous for you. Second, how are you going to reach it? You just said it�s buried beneath the foundation of the building.�

Morgan picked up the newspaper that he�d been reading earlier. He hurriedly flipped to one of the interior pages and spread it out on the table before them. He tapped an article and said, �This! That�s what you�re planning, isn�t it?�

Andre�s grin spread even wider. �You are correct, mon ami.�

Samantha leaned forward and scanned the newspaper type. The article�s headline was Sewer system undergoing reconstruction. Parking around City Hall may be affected. According to the reporter who wrote the piece, workers would be going right under downtown to make some much-needed repairs and improvements. Aloud, she said, �You think we could access it from below?�

�I�m almost positive, but I also know that The Ghost Finder would not simply allow it to be buried in concrete. He would leave other defenses around it as well. Accessing it may prove dangerous.�

Sensing excitement, Eun sprang to his feet. �Good thing you�ve come to the right group for some assistance, then! Let�s head to the sewers!�

Morgan looked dubiously down at his expensive suit. �I have a feeling that my dry cleaning bill for this month is going to be through the roof!�

Newcomers to the city of Sovereign sometimes commented on the odor that permeated the place. It was a heady mix of moist earth, saltwater and human sweat. Within weeks of being there, the smell became so commonplace that few of the locals were even aware of it.

Lazarus had long since stopped noticing such things. As he trudged through the ankle-deep water in the sewer system, he was reminded of it for the first time in years. The scent was so much stronger down here, as if it had seeped into the plumbing and become much worse as it mixed with the wastes of humanity.

Getting into the labyrinth of tunnels below the city had been quite simple. Lazarus had simply looked over a map provided by the water department and picked the manhole cover closest to their goal. Since the city had already begun their renovation project, the entrance was blocked off to the public but it had taken nothing more than jumping over a few barricades to gain entrance. Thankfully, the workmen were in another area of the sewers and hadn�t yet reached the portions that Lazarus was interested in.

Now the entire Assistance Unlimited team and Catalyst were moving beneath City Hall. Up above, the building was churning with activity. It was early afternoon and the movers-and-shakers were busy with meetings and pontification.

The current mayor was Rainsford Byles and he�d proven to be a staunch ally of Lazarus Gray. Unfortunately, he�d grown tired of fighting a seemingly insurmountable battle to clean up Sovereign. As such, he wasn�t seeking reelection. The field had become crowded with challengers since then, with a mysterious figure named Mortimer Quinn slowly positioning himself as the front-runner. Most people in town wondered about his somewhat murky past but Lazarus knew the truth. Quinn had once been a Gravedigger and had operated in Sovereign City not long after the town�s founding. Once Quinn�s time as a Gravedigger was over, he�d found that his extended life had slowly grown boring. Now he was finding new excitement in politics and Lazarus thought it could only be a good thing to have another friend in office.

�I think we�ve found it, my friends.� Catalyst slipped past Lazarus and placed his palm against one of the walls. �I can feel it pulsing away in there.�

Eun regarded the bricks with a wary eye. �Are you going to be able to wave your hand and make the wall disappear? Because otherwise I think we should have brought some heavy equipment with us.�

Catalyst glanced over at Eun and said, �Actually I do plan to make the wall disappear but that doesn�t mean that our work is done. As I said earlier, I imagine that Lowenstein left behind a few surprises.�

Lazarus put a hand on Eun�s shoulder. �Please take up a position near the front, just behind Andre and myself. Samantha and Morgan, I want you to stand near the entrance to the tunnel. If something comes out of there and gets past us, you�re to stop it. Do you understand?�

Morgan nodded though he looked puzzled. �Are you saying you think there might be something alive in there?�

�We�ve seen stranger things.�

�That�s true.� Morgan drew his pistol and took his assigned spot. He offered a smile to Samantha as she did the same. Both of them were using weapons that packed more than the usual ammunition. The bullets were silver-tipped and each had been soaked in holy water for several days. Those were tricks that The Peregrine had passed on to the group and it had paid off on several occasions. If they faced something that was traditional flesh and blood, the bullets did their standard work but if they squared off against something supernatural, the silver and holy water sometimes worked when more mundane things would have failed.

For his part, Lazarus was brandishing a large knife in his right hand. The blade was ancient and, according to legend, had once been used to kill a large werewolf that had been preying on young children in Manchester, England. There was nothing particularly powerful about the weapon but Lazarus had found it useful on several occasions.

Catalyst waited for a signal from Lazarus. Though it had never been stated outright, it was generally assumed that Gray was the leader of this expedition. Andre was, after all, operating on the other man�s turf.

Lazarus gave a curt nod and Catalyst went to work. The old man channeled the eldritch energy that existed within him and pushed it towards the wall. The brick shimmered and then vanished, revealing a room that was about 12 x 12 feet in size. In the very center was a surprisingly ornate pedestal upon which sat The Unnervum. The pedestal was covered in carved symbols, many of which seemed to glow with a soft blue light, illuminating the room. The Unnervum itself glowed as well, but it was a subtler thing, and within its glass confines images swirled of things both dark and frightening.

Andre paused. �Perhaps you should stay out here,� he warned. �If something dire happens to me, I�m dead already. The worst case would be that my time is up and my power would return to the ether.�

�As far as I�m concerned, death is nothing to fear. I�ve been there and back.�

�Your death was a metaphorical one, my friend. Richard Winthrop may have ceased to exist but your physical body never truly went away.� Andre flashed his most winning smile. �Besides, you are now a married man. I would feel terrible if I took that lovely woman�s husband away from her. Stay here. Watch. If I need help, I won�t hold it against you for giving me assistance.�

Lazarus took a deep breath and agreed.

Catalyst took one step into the room and then all hell broke loose. A crackling field of energy shot forth from The Unnervum, striking Catalyst with such force that he was lifted off his feet and sent flying backwards. He landed on his back, grunting as the air was driven from his lungs.

Almost immediately, creatures formed out of the air, taking on humanoid shape. There were five of them, perfectly matching the number of heroes on the scene. These monsters had two arms, two legs and a central trunk topped by a head but that was the end of their similarity to humanity. Their skin was mottled and rough like a reptile�s and their faces were smooth and somewhat moist-looking, with only tiny slits for eyes and a mouth. Their hands were long, with tapered fingers that ended in razor-sharp claws.

They were completely noiseless as they emerged from the room and attacked. Lazarus and Eun fell back, not wanting to be overwhelmed by the creatures before their companions could join the fray. It was a wise decision because Catalyst was on his feet in seconds, joined by Morgan and Samantha.

Lazarus shouted, �Be careful with your guns! Don�t accidentally shoot one of us!�

Morgan nodded and took aim at the closest of the things. He fired two shots, both of which hit home directly in the center of the creature�s forehead. The bullets sank in and seemed to be swallowed up by the goop that comprised its facial features. �Uh-oh,� Morgan mused. He glanced over as Samantha was discovering the same thing. Bullets that struck the monsters� lower body bounced off, ricocheting dangerously in the enclosed quarters, while the ones that struck their heads vanished into the clay-like substance.

Eun was taking the more direct route. He was punching and kicking with all his might. Unfortunately, his blows were having no more effect than did the bullets. Each strike did more to hurt his own hands than anything else and when he backed away, his limbs were tingling in pain.

Lazarus� blade struck home again and again but it, too, was useless.

Only Catalyst seemed to have any effect and even his magic blasts were only staggering the creatures. �Any ideas, Mr. Gray?� he asked, shouting over the sounds of gunfire and the grunting of Eun.

Instead of answering, Lazarus took action. He avoided the worst part of a swipe from his opponent�s claws, ignoring the stinging pain as a gash was opened up on his shoulder. He dove into the room, headed straight for The Unnervum. The monsters had seemingly emerged from nowhere but he suspected that they did have a point of origin: the same one from whence the blue energy had come.

Catalyst saw what was happening and inwardly flinched. He had wanted to be the first to handle the cursed object, not out of personal hubris but because he feared the effect it could have on the others. Still, there was no turning back now. He brought up an arm and blocked a punch from his enemy, the force of the blow sending a shock of pain that went all the up to his head. �Hold them off for a minute more!� he yelled to the others.

The advice was unnecessary. Each of the Assistance Unlimited members were doing their utmost to defeat the creatures. Samantha had abandoned her pistol and was using judo to toss her opponent to the floor. She kept it there with a flurry of kicks but she knew that the monster would inevitably rise.

Morgan, meanwhile, was in a bad way. A powerful blow to the side of the head had rocked his senses and left him dazed. Now he was trying to fend off two of them, as the one that Lazarus had abandoned had now joined the creature he�d been fighting. The two of them raked Morgan�s flesh again and again, ruining his shirt and leaving glistening red lines on his skin.

Eun saw all of this and lowered his shoulder, driving like a football player straight into the side of one of the monsters. It drove the beast into the one next to him and both toppled over. The young Korean spun about just in time to catch the arm of his own enemy, the claws of which had been just about to descend in a killing blow. �Not trying to rush you, Lazarus, but this isn�t going well!�

Lazarus heard his friend�s cry but he couldn�t move any faster than he already was. The air around The Unnervum was as thick as molasses and every step he took required a tremendous burst of strength. It seemed to take forever before his outstretched hand seized the crystal ball and yanked it off the pedestal.

That simple action had an immediate effect. The creatures that had been bedeviling his companions vanished as suddenly as they had appeared. The strange energy distortion that had surrounded The Unnervum was gone, as well.

But the worst of it was what was happening to Lazarus. He screamed, a soul-rending sound that was unlike anything his friends had ever heard from him before. They stared in horror as he fell to his knees, the strange crystal ball held tightly against his chest. His eyes were open but they were completely white, with no sign of the mismatched green and brown orbs that they were normally.

Samantha rushed to his side but she was prevented from reaching out to him by Catalyst, who swept her up into his arms.

�No! Do not touch him! We have to trust him to come through this on his own!�

�But what�s happening to him?�

�He�s communing with The Unnervum. It�s showing him something. I don�t know what it is but we have to pray that it�s going to help us get some answers.�

The mind and soul of Lazarus Gray were now some place beyond the mortal realm.

He stood before a lake of some kind but it was not water that lapped at the shore. It was thick and pus-like, with an odor that reminded Lazarus of an open sore. The sky was a muddy brown color and was completely featureless. The landscape was cracked and dry, with only a few dead trees to be seen.

Standing on the other side of the lake, far enough away that some aspects of his appearance were uncertain but close enough that Lazarus knew their voices would carry, was a man. He was dark-skinned in a swarthy way and he wore a suit of the darkest ebony. Indeed, parts of the fabric seemed to writhe and turn like a living thing, flickering at the edges.

�Where am I?� Lazarus asked. His words echoed loudly in the silent realm.

�You are in The Void,� the man replied and his words were oddly accented. Was he from the Middle East? Lazarus wasn�t sure. �And I am known by many names, some of which would be quite familiar to you. Suffice to say that I am oft-times a messenger and other times a delegate of greater influence. My masters� many of them are sleeping and others are quite far away.� The figure laughed softly. �It is good that you have come to me, Lazarus Gray, for my physical shell has been recently broken and I am banished from the world of man for a time.�

�Are you behind the suicides?�

�Not I. That honor belongs to Darhoth, she who is sometimes called The Mother of Pus. She has recently become aware of her surroundings once more and her awakening has set off psychic tidal waves that have touched your home city.�

Lazarus filed away that name in his mental inventory, knowing that he�d have to do some research. �I want it to stop,� he said.

�I imagine you do.� The dark figure moved slightly closer. �Things will calm down now that Mother is awake. She is on the move, you see, and will take precautions to ensure that no one will be able to track her. This will result in fewer sensitives reacting to her presence.�

�What does she want?�

�The same thing any Old One wants� chaos, disorder, death and suffering. The standbys.�

�You need to tell her that I�ll destroy her before I let her succeed at any of those things.�

A burst of laughter answered that declaration. �I like you, Mr. Gray. You remind me of The Peregrine in that both of you are so utterly confident in your abilities that you don�t even stop to look at things from afar. My associates are ancient beings. They were here long before any of your kind had slithered from the primordial ooze that birthed you. They will be here long after humanity is a forgotten relic of another time. Even if you defeat us today, what does that matter? We look at things in a far different way than you do.�

�If we defeat you today, we force you to wait� and then someone else can do the same. I don�t see a problem with that.�

�Of course you don�t.� The stranger waved a hand. �Whatever. I will make sure she knows your name and the nature of your threat. I plan to give her fair warning about all your associates, everyone who will come to take part in this league of heroes that you�re going to assemble.�

Again, Lazarus found the information he was being given quite interesting. Was this man referring to Assistance Unlimited, The Peregrine and Catalyst? Or were there more to come?

�You said you had many names but you still haven�t given me a single one,� he pointed out, hoping to draw out more useful facts.

�You may as well call me Nyarlathotep, Mr. Gray. That�s the name that your friend The Peregrine knows me by. Given our recent history, he might find it interesting � and, no doubt, a bit disturbing � to know that you�ve spoken to me today.�

A stirring in the lake of pus made Lazarus pause. He saw the thick liquid part and several tentacles rose up from below. The thick limbs swayed in the air, shifting to and fro like the head of a snake, before sinking back out of sight.

Lazarus suddenly felt dizzy. He swayed on his feet and his vision grew dim. Nyarlathotep�s voice reached his ears, sounding tinny and far away. �Take care, Mr. Gray. I�ll pass your words on to Darhoth, as I promised.�

Suddenly, Lazarus was back in the real world, once more occupying his physical form. He sat up quickly, immediately recognizing that he was back at Robeson Avenue, stretched out on a couch. Surrounding him, with concerned etched on their faces, was not only Catalyst and the members of Assistance Unlimited, but the masked vigilante known as The Peregrine.

Without any preamble, Lazarus looked into the eyes of Max Davies and said one word: �Nyarlathotep.�

Heinrich Himmler offered only the most perfunctory of salutes as he strode through the halls of the Occult Forces Project. As soon as word had reached him that the Schneider Expedition � or what was left of it � had returned, he had grabbed a car and sped through the city.

At any point, he had dozens of important projects with which to occupy himself but he had taken a particular interest in this one. Dieter Schneider was a genius and if he could prove his beliefs, it could mean a tremendous benefit to the OFP from both a propaganda standpoint and from a financial one. The funding would obviously begin rolling in and then Himmler�s attempts to create super soldiers would be all the better.

To his surprise, he found Schneider in one of the experimental labs. The man�s daughter � a fine-looking specimen of Aryan womanhood, Himmler thought � and Lars Hansel were both alongside the professor. Several of the OFP�s top scientists were eagerly studying some sort of mucous-like fluid that was held in a beaker. Their excitement was so great that it wasn�t until Himmler cleared his throat that anyone even took notice of him. The man holding the beaker � Otto Luther, Himmler remembered � looking almost guilty as he brought the container tight against his chest.

Dispensing with pleasantries, Himmler acknowledged Lars with a quick nod of his head and then strode straight up to Dieter. �Welcome back, Herr Schneider! I am sorry to see that your party suffered such severe losses but I am hopeful that their sacrifices were not in vain.�

�I have good and bad news, I am afraid,� Dieter replied. Himmler noticed that the man looked slimmer than he remembered and his eyes were fearful and constantly in movement.

Himmler frowned and gestured for the man to continue. �Start with the bad news, if you would.�

�We did not find Valhalla� but we did find something that I think will prove to be even better.� Dieter gestured to the scientists, who were still staring at the strange fluid in the beaker. �I have brought this substance which can be used to create more soldiers for our war. It has an amazing effect on human flesh, mutating it in surprising ways and making it much more durable.�

�Interesting. And where did you find this� substance?�

�It came from a creature called Darhoth. She is an ancient entity devoted to chaos and bloodshed. She and her agent, Vulthar, returned with me.� He pointed towards the creature that wore his daughter�s face. �This is not Sonya. This is Darhoth, the Mother of Pus. Likewise, Lars is no longer with us. His body is being used as a living host for Vulthar.�

Himmler paused, thinking for a moment that perhaps Schneider had gone mad. But he had seen far too many amazing things in recent years to discount the story, particularly if his scientists were that enthused by the substance that had been brought back.

Turning his attention to the woman that resembled Sonya, he asked, �And is this true? You�re some sort of� alien creature?�

Darhoth grinned and the expression sent a chill down Himmler�s spine. It looked hideous, as if the entity had no true conception of what a smile should look like. �I am here to make your kind bleed and scream.� She reached out and touched Himmler�s cheek, her fingers feeling cold and clammy. �But I will give you and your master so much power in return for your service. You will not need fear me� not yet.�

Himmler reached up and seized her by the wrist, squeezing it tight. �You are mistaken. The F�ehrer does not serve anyone besides the Fatherland. If you are what you say you are, then you will bow down before him, not the other way around!�

�Herr Himmler,� Dieter whispered, looking frantic. �Please. I know how it sounds but I would caution you to show respect.�

Himmler released his hold on Sonya�s wrist and stepped back, looking at her with disgust. �You need to remind your daughter of the same.�

Darhoth snorted in an unladylike fashion. Her right hand shot out with lightning speed, wrapping about the neck of the nearest scientist. Within seconds, the man�s skin began to crumble and shrink, until at last it fell away from the bone. His clothing fell to the floor amid dust and skeletal remains.

With the exception of Dieter and Vulthar, everyone else reacted with horror. The remaining scientists looked ready to bolt while Himmler himself uttered an exclamation that reflected his absolute shock.

�I can do that to you, too, Herr Himmler,� Darhoth warned. �But I do not want to. I want to help your precious F�ehrer and in return, I want him to help me achieve my own goals. Our ends do not have to be at odds. Do you understand?�

Himmler took a moment to compose himself. When he spoke again, he tried to inject a sense of power into his voice but he failed somewhat. Unlike the F�ehrer, he was not a natural ruler of men. �I will have to speak to the F�ehrer about this. In the meantime, I would appreciate it if you could give more of that� fluid� to my men so that we may study it.�

Darhoth nodded, seemingly satisfied that her point had been made. She kicked at the dead man�s skull that lay at her feet. �The substance is my saliva, Herr Himmler. I have plenty more where that came from.�

She strode past the scientists, who gave her ample space to do so, and seized another beaker. Her tongue extended and several thick globs of liquid slowly dripped from its tip, oozing down into the container. Himmler found himself oddly aroused by the sight and he forced himself to look away lest he lose himself in the moment.

Dieter stepped towards Himmler and whispered, �I know how terrifying it may seem but her power� it is immense. Surely we can find a way to use it for our own ends.�

�Yes. And when all is said and done, we can dispense with her,� Himmler said, trying to think as Hitler would.

Dieter did not reply to that. He had seen enough of The Mother of Pus to know that it would take far more than anything the Nazis had to stop her if she succeeded in summoning more of her ilk. His soul was bound to her, however, and if push came to shove, he would not hesitate to stand at her side.

He had no choice, after all.

Nimrod cleaned the wound in his shoulder and hissed as the alcohol he�d poured over it sizzled and burned. He was furious to admit that The Peregrine had gotten the best of him. That had never happened before and it put his hard-earned reputation at risk.

Sighing, Nimrod looked around his apartment and wondered what he should do. He�d taken most of his earnings in recent years and put them right back into his operation, building up a network of informants and spies who kept tabs on various vigilantes. That was part of the way he was able to track them and observe their abilities. As such, he was still forced to live in rather squalid conditions despite his success. The days of being able to retire and enjoy his earnings still lay in the future. Being a cape-killer was expensive, he�d learned.

The payday for taking out The Peregrine would have gone a long way towards achieving his goals. He planned to retire to some Caribbean island, where he�d spend his days drinking expensive booze and having sex with brown-skinned native girls.

�But first I have to pull this off,� he murmured. He sat down next to his room�s phone and buzzed the operator, asking to be connected to a long-distance number. The man he was calling was based in Sovereign City, a town that had even more vigilante problems than Atlanta.

Within a moment, a gruff voice answered and Nimrod said, �It�s me, Fritz. The Peregrine got away from me and I�m laid up right now. I was wondering if you could give me an advance��

Nimrod�s lips tightened as he heard the other man�s reply: �You have tried to play us for fools. We hired you to kill The Peregrine but you took a similar contract from the mob in Atlanta.�

�Both of you wanted the same thing. No reason why I shouldn�t get paid by both.�

�You either work for us or you don�t.�

�If you make me choose, I�ll side with you, but I don�t see why I should have to.�

Fritz said nothing for a moment and when he spoke again, Nimrod knew that he�d nearly gone too far. �We reached out to you because of your heritage. If you toe the line, you can be assured of a place in the coming world order. The Third Reich is already spreading across Europe and, in time, America will belong to the Fatherland as well. You would do well to remember that. Whatever money you may be receiving from those degenerates now will pale next to the glory � or torment � that will await you in the future. It is your choice which it is to be.�

Nimrod sighed. Pro-German forces had approached him nearly a year ago. They offered him money to assassinate enemies within the United States and to continue to hunt down the masked vigilantes who were sweeping the nation. Until now, they had said nothing about his continuing to accept money from others. He knew it might come up, particularly with his �double dipping� on the same assignment, but he saw no conflict of interest. Nevertheless, he knew what he was expected to say. �I will inform my other employers that I am no longer available to them. They might have questions when they find out that I completed the contract, however.�

�We are not concerned with your reputation, Nimrod. In fact, we are changing your status, effective immediately. From this day forward, you are part of the Occult Forces Project. That is the agency that will oversee all German super-soldiers.�

�I have German ancestry but I�m American.�

�I will forgive you for saying that. Your Aryan blood takes precedence over any loyalty you feel for your current homeland. Do you understand?�

�Of course.� Nimrod gritted his teeth and added, �I�ll resume my hunt for The Peregrine.�

�He is in Sovereign.�

�What?�

�You heard me. He was sighted entering the headquarters of Assistance Unlimited. You are to leave Atlanta immediately. We have a private plane reserved for you. If you encounter any of Sovereign�s heroes, you may feel free to deal with them as you see fit but The Peregrine should remain your primary target. He has attracted the attention of The F�ehrer and he�s considered a threat to our activities in America.�

�I�ll do as I�m told,� Nimrod said. He hung up after getting the details of his flight, slamming the receiver down so hard that it nearly toppled over in the cradle.

His dreams of retirement suddenly seemed very far away. Once he�d killed The Peregrine, there was a very good chance that he�d be ordered to Berlin to become part of whatever-the-hell an Occult Forces Project was.

He got dressed in an efficient manner, packing as he did so. He was a very clever man and he was already thinking of ways to free himself from the snare in which he had become trapped. He would definitely kill The Peregrine. He felt he had to, in light of his defeat. Beyond that� beyond that, he might yet be able to turn this into a profitable enterprise.

Otto Luther sat alone in his laboratory. He�d clutched the vial of liquid throughout Himmler�s visit, afraid that if he allowed it to leave his hands, he would never get close to the miracle fluid again. He�d hated to see his fellow scientist die, particularly when it was done solely to show off the power of Sonya Schneider, but Otto was glad that it wasn�t he who had perished.

Thirty-three years old and handsome, Otto had risen through the ranks to his current position with the OFP. He wasn�t the smartest of men, despite the degrees he�d attained but he was tenacious and calculating. If need be, he was quite willing to steal the work of others and take the credit for it. Indeed, it had been a clever bit of theft that had gained him access to the Occult Forces Project.

Science had always been a means to an end. As a young boy, he�d sliced open kittens and performed awkward experiments upon neighborhood pets. He was sick. At his very core, he was a sadist and a monster. Science simply gave him access to tools of torture that he�d always lusted after.

Resting on the cluttered desktop before him was a vial of the girl�s spittle. It was thick, more like mucous than saliva, and every now and then it pulsed with a peculiar kind of life. He�d been ordered to begin conducting research on it and he planned to do that but a truly strange thought kept interrupting his musings: why waste such power on a prisoner or a foot soldier?

He snatched up the vial and took a deep, shuddering breath. A moment later and the stopper was gone, allowing the somewhat fetid odor to fill his nostrils. He turned the vial upside down and opened his mouth, allowing the foul fluid to drip down onto his tongue. He swallowed hard, trying not to retch� and within seconds, he knew that his life would be changed forever.

His skin began to grow hot, as if it were burning, and his eyes swelled. He howled like an injured dog and fell to the floor, his hands hugging his torso. He was deathly afraid now, terrified that he�d gone too far, when suddenly everything went black�

How long he floated in the darkness, he had no idea. He thought he felt the oily touch of unfamiliar nubby hands and the whispered gibberings of voices that were not human but he saw nothing save the stygian core of chaos, the true face of reality.

�Wake up.�

The feminine voice seeped into his consciousness, stirring him.

�Wake up,� it commanded.

Slowly, the world came once more into view and he saw that Sonya Schneider � or the thing that wore her flesh, at least � was standing beside him. She was nude, her firm young body looking particularly inviting. It was cold in his lab and tiny goose bumps dotted her skin and made her pink nipples stand out.

Otto looked down at his hands and felt a stunned kind of horror settle over him. His skin was gone, leaving behind nothing but bone. He touched the ground and felt the floor, despite having no flesh with which to do so.

�Do not be afraid,� Darhoth cooed. �You are beautiful. You stripped away all the artifice and now show your true self.�

Otto rose to his feet, swaying unsteadily. He staggered over to a mirror and looked at his reflection, knowing what he would see but still compelled to confront the terror. His face was nothing but a skull with two deep holes where his eyes should have been. His clothing was different, too, looking like something from a children�s fairy tale: black cloth, with cloth shaped like white bones sewn where his ribs and chest should be. He wore a white belt that cinched his tight trousers and shirt together. Over his shoulders was slung an opera-style cape.

�What am I?� he whispered. �How can I talk with no tongue� How can I see with no eyes?�

Darhoth stepped to him and wrapped her arms about his waist. He could feel the heat from her body against his. �Magic,� she hissed. �The simplest, most complicated explanation of all. You are Mr. Death, a name that will please your Himmler and Hitler, I think.�

The newly christened Mr. Death turned to face her. �I have power, don�t I? I can feel it� in my bones.�

She stood on her tiptoes, leaning forward to run her tongue roughly against his exposed teeth. �You can kill with a touch,� she hissed. �And you are now immortal. Though you bear his features, the grim reaper can never have you now. You are beyond him.�

Otto barked out a mad bit of laughter. He�d never been the most stable of men but now� now he was definitively unhinged. �Death,� he whispered. �Mayhem. Slaughter. Oh, my!� He laughed again before pulling away from her. He performed a jig, a skeleton man flopping about in perverse merriment. When he stopped, he slapped his skeletal palms against his covered chest and exclaimed, �I�m going to kill sooooooo many people!�

�Yes,� Darhoth said, smiling cruelly. �But first you must fall to your knees and accept me as your mistress.�

Mr. Death looked at her, his empty eyes traveling down the length of her body. Once, he�d have wanted her� oh, yes� but now he felt nothing but a distant stirring, as if he�d almost forgotten what her parts could have done for him. In his current state, he was beyond such things. �I don�t think so, sweets. Mr. Death serves pure chaos� and as long as you do, too, then we�re on the same side. But I�m not bowing down before you.�

For a moment, Darhoth looked furious but then the moment passed and she seemed to take on a pleased expression. �Welcome to the other side, Mr. Death.� She held out a hand and, after a moment of consideration, Otto Luther took it. �You�re going to do just fine.�

It looked like something torn straight from a nightmare � an old house that loomed against the moonlit sky. It was a massive pile of ancient stone, fine woodwork and dark shadows. The impression that it gave was that it was almost a living thing, this isolated mansion known locally as Hendry Hall � a living thing that was just waiting to sink its fangs into the bodies of all those unlucky enough to cross its doorway.

Hendry Hall was known to all in Sovereign as a cursed place, full of mysteries and death. That description was still applicable now that it belonged to Cedric Hendry and was the headquarters for Gravedigger�s war on crime.

With dark hair, deep-set eyes, and a square jaw, Cedric Hendry was a businessman who looked like he could have stepped right off of Wall Street. He had moved to Sovereign in order to inherit the family estate and he had remained there because he�d fallen in love with Li Yuchun. Their relationship was an awkward one because of their varying morality but in the end, they were still together, and that was something that Charity couldn�t help but be envious of.

Of course, Charity had her own romance. She and Mitchell were lovers though neither of them held out any great hope for marriage or children. Not only did their racial differences pose problems for the rest of the world but both were well aware of not only Charity�s time limit to redeem her soul but also the simple, unavoidable fact that either could meet their ultimate end at any time.

Charity watched Li and Cedric�s flirting and was glad that her mask hid her face. If it hadn�t, it would have been all too obvious what sort of thoughts were going through her mind.

As always, the deadline appointed by The Voice took the forefront of her thoughts. How could it not? She only had so long before she�d either be condemned to eternal torment or find a new lease on life.

She turned to look at The Dark Gentleman, who stood at a window. He was staring out of it, digesting all that Gravedigger and Mitchell had said to him. The offer had been simple enough: they wanted him to join their organization. His detective skills were something that they needed and, in return, they could offer him support and a base of operations. It was, they said, time to elevate his status from rabble-rouser to something bigger.

The well-dressed vigilante had listened in silence, nodding thoughtfully every now and then. When the spiel had ended, he had risen from his chair and begun deliberating what his response would be.

When he spoke, his voice was low but quite audible. Cedric and Li fell silent, knowing that this was important.

�I�ve mostly avoided working with others. I like the freedom of being on my own and, to be honest, I recognize the fact that I�m not cut out for taking on the guys who want to blow up the city. My skill set is such that I�m better for punching out goons than I am for destroying weather-controlling machines.�

Gravedigger replied, �It doesn�t have to be that way. I�m not exactly a normal woman but the rest of the team are just human beings. They all bring certain talents to the group, though. And so would you.� She took a step closer and The Dark Gentleman turned to face her. �And we wouldn�t want to restrict your freedom. I�m not asking you to move in and be a full-time agent of mine. I�d just want to be able to call upon you. Occasionally, we run into a mystery that�s a little bit beyond us. You have the ability to look at clues and see things that others miss. You�d help me track down a lot of very bad people.�

�And then you�d kill them?� he asked. �That�s part of what gives me pause. I know the justice system in this town is corrupt. That�s part of why I do what I do. But I think circumventing the law is only going to make it worse. The last thing we need is to go back to the Old West, where the townspeople rise up to make sure that justice is served. I dream of a day when I can take off this mask and I�m not needed. Is that what you want?�

�Believe it or not, it is. Look, I don�t kill people because I enjoy it. I do it because that�s what I�ve been ordered to do. The Voice didn�t tell me to put people in jail. It told me to throw dirt on their graves. I answer to a higher power than any judge or police commissioner.�

�Right,� he said. �The Voice. I have to admit that I�m not sure what to make of that part of your story. Are you insane? Or have you really made contact with God� or some reasonable facsimile?�

Mitchell shook his head. �She�s not crazy. Not unless Josef was, too. And Mortimer. And all the other Gravediggers there�s been since the dawn of time, too.�

The Dark Gentleman looked at each of the people in the room, studying their faces. They looked like earnest individuals and he knew that Gravedigger was right. They did need each other. He opened his mouth, prepared to conditionally accept her offer, but a sudden chiming sound made everyone else in the room jump to life.

Mitchell held up his hands and said, �I�m on it. Everybody stay here.�

�What�s going on?� The Dark Gentleman asked.

Cedric answered. �We�ve had a problem with people sneaking onto the property so Mitchell ran some cable out along the main drive. Whenever someone drives over it, it sets off a small chime here at the house so we know to expect someone. Given the hour and the fact that all of us are here, it gives us some warning that it might be trouble.�

�Might be Mortimer,� Li offered.

�He called earlier. He�s at a political rally tonight.�

Gravedigger gave a little shushing sound as Mitchell returned. �Who is it?�

�They�re parking outside now � two vehicles and I recognize both. It�s Assistance Unlimited.�

�Did you invite them to join up, too?� The Dark Gentleman asked.

�No,� Gravedigger replied. �In fact, we don�t often get along. Lazarus Gray doesn�t think much of my methods.� She shrugged her shoulders at Mitchell as the doorbell began to ring. �Let�s get this over with, I guess. Show them in.�

Within moments, one of the most bizarre meetings in the history of Sovereign City � and, possibly, the world � was getting underway. To Gravedigger�s surprise, Lazarus had not only brought Assistance Unlimited with him, but also her old friend The Peregrine and a stranger who introduced himself as Catalyst.

After everyone had said hello and engaged in a bit of idle chitchat, Gravedigger brought everything round to business by asking, �What brings you here? I doubt it was a simple social call.�

�Unfortunately not,� Lazarus confirmed. He quickly outlined everything they had learned, from the rash of suicides, the visions he had received from The Unnervum and the information uncovered by both The Peregrine and Catalyst. �I think whatever is about to happen is too big for just us. That�s why I wanted your organization�s assistance.� He glanced at The Dark Gentleman and added, �Your presence is an unexpected bonus.�

�Why come here at all?� Li asked. �It�s not like you think the best of us. Or was Doc Daye not at home?�

�He�s not, actually. But I was already planning to speak to all the vigilantes in Sovereign and quite a few beyond the city�s limits. This is something that could pose a threat to the entire world.�

Samantha moved up to Gravedigger�s side and whispered, �Besides, I told Lazarus that your connections to The Voice might come in handy.�

Gravedigger stifled a sigh. She and her half-sister had grown up with very different lives. While their father lived with Samantha and raised the girl to have the best of everything, Charity had been forced to steal what she could in order to survive. Despite that, Samantha had made repeated overtures to try and bring them closer� and Charity had to grudgingly admit that Samantha was hardly the spoiled brat that she�d expected to meet.

�I haven�t gotten any messages from it but we don�t have that kind of relationship. The Voice speaks to me when it chooses and that�s not very often, which is usually the way I like it.� She glanced over at Lazarus and added, �But this Unnervum sounds pretty disturbing. I recently had a battle with a group of people who were trying to use a device to control the emotions and minds of others. It was definitely an awful thing[4].�

�So where�s this Unnervum object now?� Mitchell asked.

�In the car,� The Peregrine replied. �Given its power, we thought it best not to leave it at Robeson Avenue. In fact, we�ve discussed letting both Catalyst and I handle it to see if we got anything different than what Lazarus experienced.�

�And I don�t think that�s wise,� Lazarus said. �I got the impression that Nyarlathotep told me everything that we�re going to get.�

�It was useful information to be sure,� Catalyst said. �Darhoth is a powerful entity and now that I know what to look for, I have been able to pinpoint her location. She is in Germany.�

Morgan frowned. �Where in Germany?�

�I�m not sure. My powers are not that specific, particularly given the amount of magical noise that surrounds the Nazi Fatherland these days. Hitler is amassing so many occult artifacts that it serves as static, hiding what�s going on there.�

The Peregrine couldn�t hide his surprise. �When did you have a chance to do your scrying?�

�On the way over. If you�re wondering how I was able to do it without a full ritual, you need to know that I�m not your standard magician. Even at my current state, I�m still The Catalyst. Give me some quiet time and I can do things that others might need a lot to pull off.�

�Impressive.�

Catalyst gave a slight bow before turning back to the rest of the room. �So� we need to ask ourselves, what now? Do we take off for Germany, try to sneak past the Nazis and confront her before whatever plan she has comes to fruition?�

The Peregrine rubbed his chin. �Or do we wait for her to come to us? The vision I had specifically showed The White House. Makes me wonder if that�s where she plans to end up or if that was just some sort of symbolic image, giving me a clue what could to come to pass if she�s not stopped.�

The Dark Gentleman cleared his throat, which made everyone look over at him. He�d stayed silent up to now, feeling dreadfully out of place. It was this sort of thing that he�d purposefully avoided in the past. But he was here now and he thought that he might have something to add, after all. Looking at The Peregrine, he said, �You mentioned seeing a man on the roof of Assistance Unlimited�s HQ. The crystal ball he was holding� was it The Unnervum?�

�That�s what I was thinking. As soon as I got here and saw it, I knew it had to be one and the same. That�s another reason I didn�t want it left back at Robeson Avenue.�

�So I�d recommend that we use the size of this group we�ve assembled to our advantage,� The Dark Gentleman said. �Split up into three groups. Send one overseas to see if they can get into Germany. Leave another group here to protect Sovereign in case our enemies come this direction. The third group can go to Washington since that also figured into The Peregrine�s vision.�

Morgan seemed dubious. �So one group goes to Washington and does what? Listens to the radio? We have no idea what timetable any of these things have. That vision about the White House could be something that takes place ten years from now.�

�It won�t be that long,� Lazarus said. �I�m sure of that. We�re looking at something that could start breaking within days, if not hours. I do agree, though, that splitting up seems to make the most sense. I propose that I lead one group, Gravedigger takes one and The Peregrine commands the third.�

The Peregrine nodded. �Makes sense. So we just need to figure out who goes where.�

�And for that,� Mitchell said, �I think you three should have some privacy. How about the rest of us go grab a few drinks and maybe have some sandwiches? That way our fearless leaders can debate our strengths and weaknesses without worrying about hurting our fragile egos.�

A murmuring of assents followed and soon the majority of the heroes had vacated the room.

Gravedigger muttered, �Nobody even asked if we wanted sandwiches.�

The Peregrine smiled. �I think they were just anxious to avoid having to make these decisions.�

Lazarus didn�t seem interested in making any pleasantries. �Counting us, there are ten people to be assigned to the three groups. I think it makes sense for Gravedigger to remain here in Sovereign since both The Peregrine and I have private planes that can be used to travel to Washington and Europe.�

Gravedigger accepted that quickly enough. She had been thinking along those same lines, in fact. �I�m certain that The Dark Gentleman will want to stay in the city, too. He�s pretty single-minded about cleaning up Sovereign.�

�Agreed. Might I suggest that the Sovereign team consist of Gravedigger, The Dark Gentleman and Cedric Hendry? I think the three of you can handle things quite well.�

Gravedigger wasn�t surprised that Lazarus would be the one to take charge. It fit with his personality, which didn�t always please her. �Fine. How about the Washington team features Lazarus, Li Yuchun, Mitchell Williams and Eun Jiwon?�

Lazarus considered it and quickly agreed. �It might be hard for them to hide in Germany, that�s true. The current climate over there isn�t conducive for non-Aryan peoples.�

The Peregrine crossed his arms over his chest. �That leaves Samantha Grace, Morgan Watts and Catalyst to accompany me to Germany. Good group.�

�We need to stay in touch,� Gravedigger said. �I�m sure the two of you have some way of doing that?�

The Peregrine reached into one of his pockets and pulled forth a tiny receiver, small enough to fit into a person�s ear. �I put a lot of money into relay stations secreted throughout the U.S. and quite a bit of Europe, as well. The farther apart we are, the most static you�ll receive but we should be able to reach each other and share updates about our status.�

�Then I�d say we should get started,� Lazarus said.

�Let our friends enjoy their sandwiches,� The Peregrine replied. �It might be the most peace and quiet they ever get.�

In Berlin, a much darker meeting was taking place. It was an overcast day in the city, emphasizing much of the dull architecture that was being erected all over the Reich�s capital. Dieter, Darhoth, Vulthar and Mr. Death were all gathered in Himmler�s office, a map of the globe spread out across his desk.

Himmler looked displeased and his voice reflected that as he asked, �And this has to be done? The F�ehrer was surprisingly agreeable to this talk of a partnership but now you expect me to tell him that you�re sneaking off to Washington, D.C.? Preposterous!�

Darhoth was now dressed in a black uniform, similar to those worn by the S.S. She liked the propensity for darkness and ritual shown by the Nazis. Her long hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail that hung down her back. �My goals are wide-ranging ones, Herr Himmler, as I have explained. Mr. Death will go to Sovereign City. There is a mystic artifact there that can aid us. It taps into the emotional spectrum and can amplify it. Vulthar will remain here with Dieter to help with your Occult Forces Project and also to help prepare the way for my own allies. I will go to this� Washington, D.C.�

�Why? You have failed to make that clear to me.�

Darhoth seized a pencil and began to draw on the map. She circled several spots and then drew straight lines between them. By the time she was done, a pentagram had been sketched, with the exact center located at the site of America�s capital. �Because there are things in this world that your small mind cannot comprehend! Long ago, my brethren were locked away but our remaining forces made plans for their return. Vulthar will begin conducting several rituals here that will awaken the others� Mr. Death will seize hold of the device that will allow us to increase our hold over despair and chaos, two things upon which my kind feed, and I will be at the heart of it all, waiting to make the final move that will plunge your world into the hands of the Old Ones.�

�And into the hands of the F�ehrer,� Himmler pointed out.

�But of course.�

Mr. Death sprang forward, leaping onto Himmler�s desk. He knocked the map askew and so startled the Nazi that Himmler nearly toppled out of his chair. The skull-faced man brought his visage close to Himmler�s and cackled, �Don�t be a fool, Herr Himmler! This is a marriage of the worst kind of convenience! She�s going to stab you in the back sooner than you can cry foul!� He held his palms upward and added, �Of course, you�d do the same to each of us so we�re good with it!�

Himmler stared at the horrific figure and tried to reconcile this madman with the Otto Luther he�d met previously. It was difficult, to say the least. Standing up, Himmler adjusted his uniform and turned his gaze upon Darhoth, though he still preferred to think of her as Sonya Schneider. �We will get you into the United States but I would caution you to be quiet until your plans are too far along to be foiled. America has a number of individuals capable of disrupting your actions. In fact, I have sent word that an agent dubbed Nimrod is to be placed at your disposal. He is on his way to Sovereign as we speak.�

Mr. Death chuckled. �So he�ll be at my disposal, then? With the emphasis on disposal��

�That�s enough,� Vulthar said. He was looking at Mr. Death with undisguised distaste. �You�re going to frighten poor Herr Himmler.�

�It would take far more than him to accomplish that,� Himmler stammered though his tone made it clear that the opposite was true. He waved his hand dismissively. �Let me know what you need.�

�We will,� Darhoth replied. She spun on her heels and led her companions from the room. Her movements were quite sensual now as she�d grown comfortable with her new skin. The sway of her hips was second nature now and she relished the way that these human men drank in her beauty.

In the dark labyrinth of her mind, she considered how brilliantly insane Mr. Death truly was. He knew the truth that she was going to betray these Nazis when the proper time came and she suspected that he also knew that she wasn�t sharing all the details of her plan with her own allies, either.

Dieter cleared his throat as the creature that had once been his daughter moved ahead of him. He was still the odd man out here, the only one who had not been transformed. �Are you certain that you have to go into the United States? It seems very dangerous.�

Darhoth turned to face him. They were in a walkway that connected two halves of the OFP labs and several large windows showed the dull gray skies of Berlin. She held his gaze for a moment, recognizing the disturbance that he felt. She was looking at him with the face of his daughter but he knew that Sonya was long dead, her spirit having been devoured by the Mother of Pus. Forcing a softness into her tone, she reached out and caressed his face, using his devotion to his daughter to manipulate him. �I will be careful, Father. When all of this is done, I will make sure that your loyalty is noted.�

Dieter seemed to shrink somewhat, his fear lessened by her words. �Thank you.�

Darhoth glanced at Vulthar and a silent command went from one to the other. Vulthar nodded, knowing that he was being told to keep a close eye on Dieter.

Mr. Death had wandered a short distance away. He had his palms and his skeletal face pressed up against the glass, watching the people in the streets below. �They look like ants,� he said. �Smash! Smash!�

�Come with me,� Darhoth said. �We must make preparations for our trip to America.�

�Land of the Free,� Mr. Death hissed. �Red, white and blue.� He laughed to himself. �I can�t wait for them to meet me!�

Tony Quinn�s life was defined by a great and powerful lie.

Scarred by a criminal, the well-known attorney�s face was now lined with horrific scratches across both eyes, as if a jungle cat had let loose with a deadly attack. In the aftermath of this, Tony had been left blind. Morose, he�d thought that his pursuit of justice had come to an end until a secret operation had given him a new lease on life.

Receiving a double eye transplant from a murdered police officer, Tony had discovered that not only had his normal vision been restored but that he now possessed perfect night vision. His other senses were enhanced as well, giving him uncanny hearing, amazingly sensitive touch and a superhumanly accurate sense of smell.

Realizing that he could accomplish even more than before, Tony adopted a double life. During the day, he continued to pretend to be blind, operating as best he could within the legal system. No matter how good of a job he did as a lawyer, however, he occasionally saw criminals slip through the cracks.

As such, at night he donned a black bodysuit equipped with crepe-sole shoes and thin nylon gloves with rubber tips for better gripping ability. Under his armpits, he wore holstered .45 automatics and around his waist was a utility belt containing a wide variety of tools and gases. A black hood completed his disguise and hid his identity. Anyone who came across his dark path knew him only as The Black Bat, the spectral avenger of the night.

The next few months sent ripples through the underworld. The Black Bat became one of the most feared entities in New York, smashing criminal rings at every turn and coming to blows with police officers that considered his vigilante activities to be worthy of suspicion. The Black Bat�s silhouette was now a familiar sight for all those who lived in the shadows, evoking terror in some and comfort in others.

Aided by a gorgeous blonde named Carol Baldwin, whose father had donated his eyes to Tony; a former con man named �Silk� Kirby; and the hulking Butch O�Leary, The Black Bat�s crusade was an increasingly successful one.

A confident smile played across the Black Bat�s lips as he thought about Carol and the way their relationship had developed. He often gave pause to reflect on the many strange paths his life had taken, having long ago decided that only by studying the past could one forge a new future.

Studying the past actions of a thug like �Slim� Malone had allowed the Black Bat to predict that upon receiving his freedom from the state pen, the goon would head straight into the shadowy underworld of New York City, looking for work. That had proven to be the case and Slim had spent the last two weeks ingratiating himself back into the mob.

Slim now stood in a darkened alleyway behind a nightclub called The Flying Dutchman, from which the sounds of debauchery and music drifted into the night. Slim lit a smoke and leaned against the brick wall, enjoying himself immensely. As soon as that busty brunette, Mindy or Miranda, whatever her name was, got off shift as a dancer, Slim was going to ask her to have a drink and maybe head back to his place. She�d been making doe-eyes at him all night so he thought he had a good chance to score with her.

A cold, deadly voice came down from above, freezing the blood in Slim�s veins.

�Back to your old habits, I see.�

He knew that voice, for it had kept him awake nights at the state pen. It was the voice of the man who had put him away.

Slim swallowed hard, tossing away his cigarette. He looked upwards but could see nothing save for the twinkling of stars. And then there was the briefest of movements, the rustle of a cape, and the Black Bat had dropped from the rooftop to land in a crouch before him.

The vigilante�s right hand shot out, his fingers gripping Slim around the throat. The Black Bat lifted him off the ground, applying enough pressure that Slim struggled to breathe.

�I ain�t done nothing wrong,� the criminal gasped, trying to pull the Bat�s hand away so he could take a breath.

�You were involved in that heist at O�Reilly�s Pub,� the Black Bat hissed. �Don�t deny it. The other boys have already fingered you.�

Slim gave up the fight. He gave a quick nod and muttered an obscenity. The Black Bat smiled coldly and let the man drop to the ground. He landed in a heap at the vigilante�s feet.

�You want to know where we fenced the goods we stole?�

�You�re smarter than I gave you credit for, Slim. Your buddies said you handled the sales.�

Slim started to answer but for some reason, his words were strangely distorted to The Black Bat�s ears. The world seemed to suddenly grow unstable, as if a powerful earthquake were shaking the ground beneath his feet.

Slim stopped talking, staring at the hero in confusion. The Black Bat was swaying like a drunk, his hands reaching out to stabilize himself. Slim rose to his feet, torn between a desire to flee and the realization that now was his chance to off the scourge of the underworld.

His hand snaked into an interior pocket of his coat, where it found the hilt of a knife. He paused, wondering if this were some sort of setup but finally his cowardice won out. He dropped the weapon back into his pocket and spun about, his legs churning as he bolted from the alley.

The Black Bat, meanwhile, slid to his knees. His head was pounding and his senses, enhanced beyond those of a normal man�s, were being overwhelmed by a baffling array of sounds and smells. He gasped as images began to fly past his mind�s eye. He saw a man with a fleshless face holding a glowing crystal ball� and he saw a woman clothed in red and black, struggling to get to the obvious madman. A cacophony of screams made The Black Bat realize that somehow the terrifying figure was using the crystal ball to absorb his own madness and then share that with the world around him. He was killing innocents with the power of his own insanity!

A powerful word slammed into his brain: Sovereign.

Suddenly, it was all over and Tony Quinn was left alone in the alley. He was breathing heavily, as if he had just finished running a marathon.

Looking around, he saw that Slim was gone. While he was disappointed to have lost his prey, he knew how lucky he really was. He would have been helpless to defend himself had Slim chosen to attack.

He thought back to what he had just seen. Sovereign. Was that a reference to Sovereign City? Under normal circumstances, he would have taken off to investigate this but he had an important case beginning in the morning that he simply couldn�t miss.

Perhaps he should reach out to one of the other heroes that he�d encountered in recent months: Thunder Jim Wade, Leonid Kaslov or even The Domino Lady. He�d even heard tales of a skull-and-crossbones type known as The Black Terror�.

With grim determination, The Black Bat fell back into the shadows, allowing himself to vanish from sight. Even if he couldn�t handle it on his own, he would do what he could to make sure that justice was done.

Leonid Kaslov was of Russian descent, with close-cropped silver-blond hair and piercing blue eyes. He wore a well-tailored black suit, a white handkerchief perched dashingly out of his breast pocket and a golden ring set with a pale red stone shone on the little finger of his right hand. His teeth were pearly white and very regular, helping give the impression of a man who came from impressive stock.

Kaslov was further blessed with a washboard stomach and remarkable grace, making him an easy target for the wandering eyes of women. Though he appreciated the interest, he rarely returned it with any real fervor. He was dedicated to his work and he found that romance had a way of distracting him from the things to which he had dedicated his life: namely, the betterment of mankind and the exploration of the unknown.

In pursuit of those two goals, Kaslov had spent years honing his body into physical perfection and had mastered numerous sciences. Newsworld magazine had named him Man of the Year twice in the last decade, making him one of the most famous men in the nation. His most recent award had been announced just last week at a star-studded press conference in Manhattan.

He entered his office building, nestled between two other businesses. Elizabeth �Libby� Raines was seated behind the desk in the lobby, her blonde curls hanging in ringlets around her shoulders. She looked up with a smile, her blue eyes twinkling as she took him in. Her ample curves were barely contained by a tight sweater and, despite his lack of interest in the opposite sex, Kaslov was attentive enough to notice that she leaned forward in greeting, obviously hoping to catch his eye.

�Good morning, Mr. Kaslov. An attorney by the name of Anthony Quinn is waiting in your office. I just gave him a cup of coffee.�

�Thank you, Miss Raines.�

Leonid moved into his office and before the door was even shut behind him, he felt the cold barrel of a gun placed against his temple. He reacted with astonishing speed, ducking down while seizing hold of the hand that held the gun. He gave a twist and hurled Tony Quinn across the office, noting with pleasure that the seemingly blind attorney executed a perfect acrobatic flip that left him upright.

Quinn hurled the gun with pinpoint accuracy, nailing Kaslov across the chin.

Wiping away a streak of blood from the wound, Kaslov was nonetheless able to block Quinn�s next attack, which consisted of a roundhouse punch.

The two men grunted as they exchanged a series of blows, each strike showing the marked difference in their fighting styles. With Tony Quinn, it was all about brute power and force, while the much larger Leonid Kaslov utilized a martial arts style that had been taught to him in the Orient.

Quinn stepped back, panting. His hands were going numb from striking Kaslov�s thick torso. It was like punching a frozen slab of beef. His eyes were hidden as he said, �I can�t believe you�d strike a man wearing glasses.�

Kaslov relaxed and both men adjusted their ties. �Mind telling me why you put a gun to my head?�

�Just wanted to make sure you weren�t going soft since being named Man of the Year.�

�I appreciate the concern. Did I pass muster?�

�And then some.� Tony dropped down into a chair. He waited until Kaslov had taken his customary spot behind the desk before adding, �Miss Raines looked especially attractive today.�

�You�re blind, remember?�

�I�d have to be to not ask her out. What�s your excuse?�

Kaslov sat back and studied his friend. �Why are you here, Anthony? It�s not like you to make a social call.�

�You and I have worked together on enough cases that I feel comfortable coming to you with this but I wouldn�t admit to it to anybody else.�

�I�m flattered.�

�You should be. I had a vision last night.�

The Russian leaned forward with interest. It wasn�t like Tony to speak of spiritual or supernatural matters. �Tell me about it.�

Tony did, leaving out no detail. As a trained lawyer, he was a master at remembering and delivering testimony. When he was finished, he waited for Kaslov to digest all that he�d shared.

�You�re not alone,� Kaslov answered. �I was reading through a series of newspaper clippings last evening. Psychics the world over are reporting such things. In fact, I�ve heard rumors that the rash of suicides in Sovereign might even be related.�

�Do you think this could be the end of the world?�

�Only if we don�t take the warning to heart and do something about it.� Kaslov opened a drawer of his desk and took out an atlas. Several pages within were marked by strips of paper that stuck out the top of the book. �I was planning to journey to South America, actually. According to what my contacts are telling me, a series of Aztec statues have come to life and are terrorizing the populace of several small towns. It�s probably not related to the central threat that your visions referenced but I think we�re seeing an upsurge in supernatural events as a side-effect.�

�Maybe you should abandon that trip and head to Sovereign instead.�

Kaslov considered it. �No matter what, those poor souls down in South America need help. With your permission, I�d like to send a full write-up of your vision to Doc Daye. He�s already in Sovereign and is probably well equipped to handle something like this.�

�He�s out of town. I checked.�

�In that case, Assistance Unlimited seems like a good option. I haven�t worked with Lazarus Gray before but from all accounts, he�s a good man.� Kaslov glanced at Tony and asked, �I assume that you�re not going to Sovereign yourself?�

�I can�t. The Gilbert murder case begins today.�

Kaslov nodded. He wasn�t going to mention it to Tony, but he�d heard from others with similar stories: Ascott Keane and Ravenwood had both sent him warnings that something unusual was occurring. �I appreciate you coming to me with this. When all is said and done, we should get together and compare notes.�

�Assuming the world isn�t about to go down in flames,� Tony muttered. �That man I saw, the one with a skeleton face� he was insane. Utterly. I believe he�d kill every man, woman and child on earth if he could.�

Kaslov stood up, his handsome face set with stony determination. �Then let�s make sure that doesn�t happen. I�ll make sure that Assistance Unlimited knows that if push comes to shove, you and I will do everything we can to help. Is that all right?�

�You know it is,� Tony replied. �I hate to sound pessimistic, it�s really not in my nature. It�s just that what I saw� I�ve never had an experience like that. I�m not even sure why I would. I�m no mystic!�

�Your natural senses are greatly enhanced,� Kaslov countered. �It could mean that the so-called �Sixth Sense� exists in a slightly evolved state for you, as well.�

�Let�s hope it�s a one-time thing, then. I�m not sure I could stand having those things on a regular basis. I think it�d drive a man insane.�

Bob Benton wasn�t quite human.

Oh, it wasn�t just the enhanced strength and bulletproof skin that made him different from the rest of humanity. It was his origins.

He was an artificial man, grown like a plant. He had been intended to be a super-soldier, a warrior who would both inspire Americans and strike terror into the rising tides of the enemy.

His garb was mostly black with a skull-and-crossbones motif. This had been carefully crafted by the men and women in charge of the project. The pirate-style boots and overall design would appeal to the roguish spirit inherent in many Americans while simultaneously implying that he was a figure of death to those he fought.

To complete his creation, he�d been mentally fed a false life. He had initially believed himself to be a simple chemist who had gained his powers through the use of �Formic Ethers.� According to his memories, he had a girlfriend and a kid sidekick, but these had been mere fantasies. After an adventure alongside Lazarus Gray[5], he�d not only gained knowledge of his true past, he�d also broken free of his captor�s control and used their own technology to bring his friends to artificial life. They had no knowledge of what they actually were and he planned to keep it that way. Tim and Jean were good people and what did it matter if they�d been born of flesh or science?

Currently, he was crouched atop a rooftop, a cutlass held tightly in his right hand. He usually preferred to go into battle with nothing more than his fists but there were times when he knew that he might need something a little more� severe.

He was fairly certain that tonight would be one of those times. Lately, he�d been encountering crime that was a little more� mysterious� than usual. Where he most often fought gangsters and would-be criminal masterminds, he�d encountered Satanists several times as of late. All of them were babbling about the �end times� and the return of dark gods.

His most recent battle had been with a slovenly gentleman who�d called himself The White Worm. The Black Terror had learned that The White Worm was supposed to meet a witch called Cassandra outside a dive bar called The Blue Labyrinth and he�d taken it upon himself to attend in The Worm�s stead.

Down below, Cassandra stood waiting in an alleyway with four men at her side. The goons were poured into their suits, muscles visibly bulging. The Black Terror could tell that they were packing heat, as well. He spotted the telltale signs of guns holstered under their jackets.

Cassandra was quite a sight, the hero had to admit. Tall and curvaceous, she had wavy blonde hair, bright blue eyes and a beauty mark just above the right corner of her mouth. She wore a white dress that shone like moonlight in the gloom and when he heard her speak, her voice sounded like the tolling of church bells.

�The Worm�s late,� she said. �Something�s not right.�

One of the men grunted and replied, �I don�t see why we need him. He�s only good for bringing in cash from his whores and booze. We could replace him easy enough.�

Cassandra�s pretty face twisted into a grimace. �Don�t speak of such things in front of me!� she warned. �I�m a lady, remember?�

�Sorry,� he muttered.

The Black Terror shifted. He�d heard enough to confirm that this was the woman he�d been looking for. The White Worm had made it clear that Cassandra knew what was going on and why the entire town had been acting crazy lately � hell, maybe even beyond this town, if the news from Sovereign could be believed. A rash of suicides? That was enough to bring goosebumps to The Black Terror�s flesh.

Throwing himself off the roof, The Black Terror allowed his cloak to billow out behind him. He landed in a crouch and, before the stunned goons could even comprehend what was happening, he launched himself at them. He seized the nearest of the men by the throat and threw him at another. The two men�s bodies collided with the force of a freight train, their heads slamming audibly together.

The third man was felled by a brutal uppercut that sent teeth flying from between bloodied lips and the final fellow was silenced with a kick to his midsection that rendered him unable to do more than gasp for breath and clutch his wounded stomach.

The entire battle � if it could be called that � was over in seconds.

The Black Terror turned to face Cassandra, who raised her slender hands and gave him a slow but steady set of applause.

�Most impressive, Mr.�� ?�

�You can call me The Black Terror.�

�How melodramatic.� The witch tipped her head to the side and studied him. �You�re one of those vigilantes, I take it? Like The Peregrine?�

�I wear a mask and operate outside the law. That�s where the comparisons stop.�

�Well, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company? Are you here to arrest me for something? I�m fairly certain I�ve committed no crimes. None that are on the books anyway.�

�The White Worm�s not coming.�

�I assumed as much.� Cassandra waved her fingers through the air and The Black Terror took an involuntary step back. It was as if he could feel her cold touch, even though she stood several feet away from him. �You�re powerful, but there�s something strange about you. You�re not quite the man you appear to be, are you? You�re some sort of homunculus.�

�I�m a man!� he retorted, a bit more severely than he�d intended. Seeing the knowing smile on the witch�s face only made him angrier and he had to visibly calm himself before he asked, �The weirdness� the suicides, all the cults springing up. Is it all related?�

�You don�t need me to tell you that, do you?� Cassandra nudged the groaning form of one of her men and added, �I think we�re in the End Times. Something dark has been reawakened. We magic-users keep in close contact with one another, even though some practice White Magic while others, like me, take the darker routes. I was talking to a young Southern witch[6] the other day and she said that she�d had a vision of a woman covered in dripping filth standing over the body of an old friend of hers� the hero Lazarus Gray.�

The Black Terror frowned. He liked Gray and hearing Cassandra so casually discussing his possible injury or even death made him feel uncertain. He was about to question her more when he saw her form begin to dissipate. He surged forward, his fingers passing through her disappearing torso.

�No! Stop!� he commanded but all he elicited in return was an amused laugh.

�Sorry, my strapping young hero, but I�m not going to be caught tonight. I�d advise you to find your loved ones and huddle up tight. Something wicked is coming.�

The Peregrine was an expert when it came to sneaking in and out of Nazi Germany.

In the relatively few years since Hitler had seized power, he�d found himself drawn to Europe on numerous occasions, often straight into the heart of the Third Reich. As such, he knew all the ins and outs of the various secret routes and was well equipped with false identification papers should he be discovered.

Samantha and Morgan were going to find it easy enough to avoid detection but The Peregrine had initially been concerned about Andre Thierry. Thankfully, the mage had been able to slightly alter the appearance of his skin with a simple spell. In fact, he was now the most Aryan looking of the bunch, with the classic strong chin, sharp nose, blue eyes and blond hair. He looked like he would have been the perfect breeding match for Samantha, who also embodied much of the Nazi ideals of beauty.

The trip had taken only two days, sped along by the wonderful engine in The Peregrine�s private jet plane. It had been an entertaining trip, livened up by Morgan�s ability to spin colorful yarns and Andre�s endless trove of somewhat inappropriate jokes.

And so the foursome was now walking down the Potsdamer Platz, which lay just south of the Reichstag. The men and women that they passed were of two types: those who moved with furtive glances and obvious concern and the ones who smiled freely, walking with the confident strides of those for whom the world was their oyster.

Max ran a hand through his wavy hair and wondered what those latter people made of his olive-tinged skin and Mediterranean ancestry. He supposed they�d consider him a Gypsy, which was barely a step above the Jewish people that Hitler so disdained.

�You need to keep that frown off your mug,� Morgan whispered. �You look like a man who just swallowed something foul.�

�Thanks for the reminder. It gets worse every time I�m here. It�s like the hatred and madness of Hitler is befouling the air.�

�In many ways, that�s the case,� Andre said. The three men were huddled closely together, while Samantha had wandered further afield to examine the scenery. She was still within visual range, which made Max feel better. He didn�t want any of them to get separated. Andre continued, �A man like Hitler doesn�t need The Unnervum to broadcast his emotions across the nation. He�s persuasive and able to tap into the latent fears and desires of his people. That makes him far more dangerous than your garden-variety criminal.�

Morgan lowered his voice so that it was barely discernible. �Then maybe our real mission should be to find him and put a bullet in his head. Might do a lot of people a lot of good.�

Max shook his head. �The world�s already a powder keg. Can you imagine what would happen if word got out that a group of Americans snuck behind the German border and assassinated the F�ehrer? There wouldn�t be any hope of staying neutral then. The US of A would be right in the middle of it all.�

Andre cleared his throat and said, �Looks like our little Samantha has made a friend.�

Morgan and Max looked up to see that Samantha was returning to them with another woman in tow. This girl was about the same age but of much stockier build. She wasn�t so much overweight as she was simply very thick all over. Her brown hair was pulled back severely against her skull and her face was unmade, with dark rings under her eyes. In a less harsh light, she might have been acceptably attractive but at present, she looked like she was living a very harsh life and it was rapidly catching up to her.

Samantha, in contrast, was beaming like a ray of sunshine. In flawless German, she said, �This is my friend Inga. We met when she came to Sovereign for a tennis tournament.�

Max and Andre had no trouble following the conversation but Morgan was momentarily lost. He was able to understand several languages on a rudimentary level but he was certainly not fluent. Thus, he was extremely grateful when Andre reached out and squeezed his elbow. Instantly, he was able to understand German as if he had been born to it. Morgan had to admit that magic was a most useful talent to possess.

Max was asking, �You�re a tennis player?�

Inga gave a weary shrug of her shoulders. �In my younger days. But now I am serving the Fatherland in the preferred way, by being a good wife and mother. I have two children now.�

Samantha added, �As soon as I found out that we were coming to Berlin, I sent her a message and asked her to meet us.�

�That�s why you insisted we visit the Platz,� Morgan muttered. He seemed just as surprised as Samantha that he was speaking German.

Covering her amusement, Samantha said, �Yes. I told her that we were looking for things that might be a bit unusual and she�s got a lead for us.�

�These days, there is no shortage of the unusual,� Inga said. �But I have a cousin who works in the Dahlem neighborhood. He says that the Reich has opened up a set of offices in the name of The Research and Teaching Community of the Ancestral Heritage.�

�That�s quite a mouthful,� Max said.

Inga nodded. �They are mostly academics, I have heard, but my cousin says that some of their offices are off-limits to all but researchers. He says that sometimes you can hear screams coming from there and he once saw a file marked Occult Forces.�

�Sounds promising.� Morgan favored the young woman with his best grin and he was pleased to see that she responded favorably. Though not as young as he used to be, he retained a rakish air. �Inga, could your cousin tell us how to get into this� Ancestral Heritage building?

�There is no need to ask him. I already know how.�

�And how is that?� The Peregrine asked.

�They�re always looking for volunteers for their experiments. They pay you.�

�Lovely,� Morgan said. �I figured they�d use prisoners for those.�

�They do but sometimes they don�t want degenerates for their trials. They need to test things on true Aryans.�

�Which we have the papers to prove that we are,� Samantha pointed out. �Will it matter that I�m a woman?�

�The F�ehrer has put an emphasis on breeding the next generation of Germans. The only women used in the trials are criminals or Jews.�

�That works out well,� Max said. �If something goes terribly wrong while we�re inside, you can bail us out.�

Samantha appreciated the show of respect and she knew it wasn�t mere words. Though women were often treated as being less than their male counterparts in the workplace, she had always been highly valued with Assistance Unlimited and its allies. �I�ll come to your rescue if it comes to that,� she promised.

�Good.� Looking at Inga, Max asked, �So, how soon can we get inside?�

Inga seemed to think this entire affair spoke of pure madness. Nevertheless, she calmly replied, �You have arrived just in time. Today is volunteer day. I can have you inside in less than an hour.� She looked away and added, �I just hope you�ll get back eventually.�

Dieter Schneider watched as Vulthar continued his preparations for the rituals that were supposed to wake up the Old Ones. One of the interior laboratories had been completely cleared, leaving a large open expanse for Vulthar�s work.

Dieter had stopped thinking of the man before him as being Lars. It wasn�t as easy to put aside thoughts of Sonya when he dealt with Darhoth but in this case, there were so many differences between Vulthar and the man whose body he now utilized that it was impossible not to notice them.

Lars had been a man of action. He�d possessed a quick mind, to be sure, but he was a solider first and foremost. When in doubt, he shot things. Vulthar was much more silent and observant. He knew his role in the great tapestry of things. He was a follower of Darhoth�s and knew when to keep his mouth shut. But there was no doubt of the evil intelligence that brewed behind his narrowed eyes. He exuded malevolence and whenever he spoke to a human being, his tone was full of disdain. It was like he was being forced to deal with creatures that were less than cockroaches to him and Dieter wondered, ultimately, if that was the way Darhoth and all of her ilk felt, as well.

Dieter cleared his throat and Vulthar looked up in annoyance. His fingers were dripping with calf�s blood, which he had been using to draw a pentagram on the floor.

Vulthar had traded in Lars� military uniform in favor of a set of long green robes that were cinched around his waist by a rope belt. As he stood up, he pulled the belt tighter and Dieter winced. It was visibly digging into the flesh and had to be quite painful. Perhaps, he mused, that was intentional on Vulthar�s part.

�What is it, Herr Schneider?� Vulthar asked. His tone suggested that he would not be pleased if Dieter�s response lacked urgency.

�The volunteers are being processed now.� Dieter shuffled his feet. �I know that you wanted several of them for your own work but I have to ask, are they going to be harmed? If they�re killed or maimed, I need to know how to handle that beforehand.�

�You�re still thinking about things the way they were before.�

�What do you mean?�

�The world�s changed.� Vulthar stepped towards Dieter and patted him on the cheek, leaving a bloody hand print. �Forget about your old views of morality. All of those people outside this room, none of them matter. They�re just walking sacks of meat and blood. We can use them up as we see fit. Our masters were here long before your civilization and they will be here long after. Keep that in perspective.�

�Yes but we�re still subject to the rule of the F�ehrer, at least for now. If we upset them, they can kill us and that would disrupt Darhoth�s plans.�

Vulthar grunted and turned away. �Very well. Yes, I will probably break a few of the people you bring me today. We have to make blood sacrifices, you see? It�s not enough to kill a calf. In order to make the spell truly sing, I have to have something richer than that. I need human souls in torment. So, yes, they will be maimed and killed. Does that satisfy your curiosity?�

Dieter nodded and left the room, knowing that Vulthar had lost interest in him. He strode down the hall and found the group of twenty or so volunteers being examined by the OFP�s top scientists. Each of the men was shirtless and blood was being drawn, with physical measurements taken. The women were hidden behind a curtain and being similarly checked out. Most of the volunteers were among the most poor of the city, the dregs who needed to sell their bodies to get enough money to feed themselves or their children.

Today, however, had also brought in three men who were in much better shape than usual. In fact, one of them � a gypsy, Dieter suspected � was as fit as Lars had been before Vulthar�s assumption of power.

Dieter informed one of the doctors that he wanted those three brought to Vulthar. He detected disappointment in the physician�s face and he didn�t blame him. Such healthy specimens would have been a boon to the experiments here but Vulthar would want the strongest for himself. The weaker the body, the weaker the soul, he had said.

That brought up thoughts of his daughter, his lovely, sweet Sonya. Her soul must have been very strong, for she was certainly strong of body and spirit.

Clenching a fist, Dieter pushed away all thoughts of rebellion. He was a coward at heart and he simply had to accept that his only hope for survival lay in being agreeable to all the demands of his new masters.

The Peregrine wasn�t surprised when he was pulled aside with Andre and Morgan. Despite their attempts to look rougher than normal, they still stood out like sore thumbs. There was only so much that a bit of dirt smeared on the cheeks could accomplish. They still looked much healthier than the poor souls who stood beside them in line.

The question was: were they being separated because there was something special in mind for them or had their deception been uncovered?

Each of them was allowed to put their shirts and coats back on. Max quickly checked to make sure that his weapons were in place. All three men had been surprised by how lax the security had been on the way in. Beyond the most cursory of pat-downs, none of them had been searched. Max assumed that here in the heart of Berlin, the Nazis felt relatively safe. As a resort, Max�s small arsenal of weapons lay within his jacket, protected from sight in the many hidden pockets that lined the interior of the garment.

The three men were led down a long hallway and each of them tried to catch a glimpse into the various rooms that they passed. They saw a plethora of odd things, though each was only briefly seen: an old man being outfitted with a harness that featured large feathered wings; a suit of steel being fitted to a lovely young woman; a nude androgynous figure with an elongated skull and misshapen bones; and a table upon which two teen-aged twin girls were strapped down. The girls had been holding hands and one of them had been crying as a scientist approached with a large syringe in one hand.

Morgan felt bile rising in his throat. He knew what the mission was but he wasn�t sure he�d be able to leave with all this still going on. Surely they�d have the time to burn the place to the ground, but even if they did, the Nazis would only start again someplace new. His earlier words about killing Hitler rose once more to the forefront of his thoughts. He understood The Peregrine�s point about not wanting to cause more trouble for America but Hitler was a nut, even if a lot of people back home didn�t want to admit it yet. Something had to be done and why couldn�t guys like Lazarus or The Peregrine be the ones to do it? Hell, with Catalyst onboard, they�d be able to get in and out without ever being seen!

His musings were interrupted as they entered a large room that was mostly empty. On the floor a blood-smeared pentagram had been drawn and the artist stood nearby, looking like some sort of mad monk. Though Morgan didn�t know Lars or Vulthar from Adam, he definitely recognized the danger that the man posed. Standing nearby was an older male � an academic, Morgan figured. This guy looked fearful and his eyes continually darted about the room, as if he was afraid that something was going to jump out and get him.

The scientist who had led them to this room hurriedly backed out and locked the door behind him.

The older man cleared his throat and smiled. �My name is Dieter Schneider and this is��

When the pause became somewhat awkward, the robed figure spoke up. �You may call me Vulthar.�

Dieter nodded. �Vulthar. The three of you were chosen to help us with a very important project. You seem very healthy and that is good. We need strong, vital men for this. It is of the utmost importance to The F�ehrer.� He suddenly looked troubled and asked, �Do any of you have families? Children?�

Max answered for the group. �None of us do. I�m married but my friends are not.�

�Good!� Dieter seemed relieved. �So. The first thing I need for all of you to do is to strip down. Completely naked.�

Andre gestured to the pentagram on the floor. �What is this, Herr Schneider? I thought we were here for a scientific experiment?�

�The blending of science and what we once thought of as magic is a strange thing,� Dieter admitted. �Now, please, do as I have asked.�

Andre glanced at The Peregrine, wanting to know what they should do. Max made it abundantly clear by quickly reaching into his coat and pulling out a pistol. Morgan did the same while Andre raised both hands, allowing a soft golden light to surround him. His false appearance faded away, leaving him revealed not only for his ethnic heritage but as the Catalyst, cloaked in emerald.

The Peregrine pointed his pistol at Vulthar, having recognized him as the true threat. Likewise, Catalyst directed his open palms in that same direction, ready to unleash a magic blast at a moment�s notice.

Morgan, meanwhile, hurried over to Dieter and seized the man before he could sound any kind of alarm.

�We want answers,� The Peregrine said. �Where�s The Mother of Pus? What�s her plan? And how do you boys figure into it?�

Vulthar laughed coldly. �I have to say, Herr Schneider, I do not think much of the security of The Reich.� He stepped into the middle of the pentagram and said, �I need sacrifices, gentleman. Three of them will do, particularly if they�re strong ones, as you have revealed yourselves to be. Whether you surrender willingly or I have to do this by force matters not.�

The Peregrine frowned. He needed information and he quickly realized that Vulthar wasn�t going to give it. Their best bet lay with the professor. Hopefully, he knew enough to be truly helpful. �Andre,� he hissed. �Let�s kill this guy.�

Catalyst wasn�t upset by that command in the least. �Your wish is my command,� he said.

Suddenly the room was lit up not only by Catalyst�s blast of magical force but by a similar one that shot forth from Vulthar. The beams of energy slammed into one another and shook the building to its foundation. The glow of energy could be seen through the windows, alerting Samantha across the street that something was happening.

The Peregrine put away his gun and drew forth The Knife of Elohim, a mystical blade that had been dipped in the blood of Christ. This caused the weapon to glow in the presence of evil and to do extra damage to those whose souls were steeped in sin.

It was now glowing so powerfully that it was almost blinding.

Gritting his teeth, The Peregrine jumped forward into the pentagram, willing to take the battle directly to his enemy.

Dieter resisted the urge to bolt and run. Though he�d come to realize his cowardice in recent days, he knew it would not be wise to abandon his post at Vulthar�s side.

Instead, he fumbled for a pistol that he knew was kept in a nearby drawer. Security in the Reich sometimes meant that you had to be prepared for anything and that often meant that even men of science kept armed weapons at easy reach. He had just yanked open the drawer and started to place his fingers around the hilt of the gun when Morgan barreled into him with shoulder lowered.

The impact sent Dieter to the floor and knocked the air from his lungs. He wheezed for a few seconds before looking up into Morgan�s angry face. The American held Dieter�s gun now and he brandished it with obvious familiarity.

�A Mauser?� Morgan muttered. �Nice.� He leaned forward and seized Dieter�s collar, yanking him closer. �I have the feeling that you might have answers to a whole lot of our questions. Am I right?�

�It�s hopeless,� Dieter hissed. �You obviously have no idea what�s really going on here!�

�I�ll take that as a yes.� Morgan drew back his hand and slammed the butt of the Mauser into Dieter�s temple. With a groan, the scientist passed out, his eyes rolling up into his skull.

Andre had to admit that The Peregrine had guts. There he was, locked in mortal combat with a man obviously possessed by some sort of elder power and all he was armed with was his wits and an enchanted blade. Oh, it was one of the fabled Knives of Elohim to be sure, but their greatest power came when united. Separate, they were capable of carving through most enemies with ease but against someone like Vulthar, it would not be enough.

As such, Catalyst was prepping a powerful spell that might save the day, assuming he got a clear enough shot at Vulthar to use it. The Peregrine was unintentionally making that very difficult.

Hearing the booted footsteps of armed men hurrying down the hallway, Catalyst whirled about and placed his hands upon the closed door. It glowed, strengthened by his magic. Now it would take quite a bit of effort on the part of anyone to get inside.

Catalyst turned back to the battle and saw Vulthar backhand The Peregrine with enough force to lift Max Davies off his feet. The masked hero landed with a grunt and barely dodged an energy blast that would have taken the flesh off his head.

Vulthar stepped back and unleashed a string of ancient words. He was casting some sort of spell; the one that would have required the use of sacrifices. Catalyst could only assume that the man was willing to gamble that he could pull off the spell without the life essences that he craved. And why not? If Vulthar was defeated, whatever he�d been trying to do would be thwarted regardless. Better to simply try it and hope for the best.

Catalyst surged forward, eager to stop this from happening, but he realized his mistake too late. As he entered the pentagram, Vulthar looked in his direction and grinned triumphantly. The villain had obviously decided that three sacrifices would not be needed at all, providing that there was a single one that would prove just as powerful.

Andre screamed as Vulthar opened his mouth wide and belched out a tremendous burst of magical fire. It engulfed The Catalyst and destroyed his physical shell, which had been kept animate all these years through his sheer force of will. Now that he was older and weaker, he was unable to protect himself from the attack.

And in one powerful instant, The Catalyst was destroyed and the spell took effect.

The pentagram started to glow and a high-pitched sound filled the air, making everyone flinch in sudden pain. All over Germany, animals reacted just as violently. The noise dug deep into their brains and spoke of something awful. Dogs barked, cats hissed, and horses kicked out at anything and everyone within reach.

But even worse, deep below the seas and mountains, dark things stirred. Glimmerings of consciousness began to form and limbs that had not moved for eons began to twitch. The more powerful the entity, the deeper in slumber it had been but their spawn, the quick and deadly babies that they had birthed along the way, were instantly awake and crawling towards the surface.

Humanity was in tremendous peril and those poor souls who were sensitive to such things were once again inundated with feelings of dread and despair.

The Peregrine screamed. The painful visions that had often plagued him were back in full force now, slamming into his brain with all the force of a freight train. As before, he saw scenes of terror and destruction but now he saw horrible creatures, slithering up from the depths of the world�s orifices.

When the images abruptly faded, he heard the triumphant laughter of Vulthar. He saw Morgan pointing his pistol at the villain and squeezing off two quick shots, neither of which made it to their intended target. The bullets seemed to stop in midair, several feet from Vulthar, who regarded them with disdain.

On the floor in front of the villain lay the tattered emerald garb of Andre Thierry. Of the man who had once worn those clothes, there was nothing left save dust and bone.

Max Davies cursed under his breath. He�d seen this too many times before: good men and women dying, while the forces of evil returned again and again. Fueled by a terrible drive for vengeance, The Peregrine brandished The Knife of Elohim and shouted for Morgan to take his prisoner to safety. As ordered, Morgan seized hold of Dieter�s arm and dragged him behind a metal storage cabinet.

Vulthar�s triumphant grin faded a bit as The Peregrine approached, mystic blade glowing in his gloved hand. �It�s too late, masked man. They are waking up, all around the globe.�

�You killed Catalyst.�

�He died for a greater purpose than he ever served in life.�

�I�m going to send you to Hell.�

�Do you appreciate the irony of that, given that you�re armed with a weapon of your modern God?�

�I don�t see it. Looks to me that a blade like this is the perfect thing with which to dispatch the forces of evil.�

�It gained its power from an act of foulness!�

�You�re wrong. It was a pure, noble sacrifice. You focus on the acts of the terrible men who took part in Christ�s death without realizing the bravery that it took to allow it to happen.�

Vulthar shrugged. �Semantics.�

�Fact,� The Peregrine hissed between clenched teeth. He stabbed with his knife and the sharp blade dug deep between Vulthar�s ribs. The magic properties of the blade dealt extra damage and the wound sizzled.

Howling in pain, Vulthar shoved back at The Peregrine with all his might. For so many centuries, he�d not felt the agony that came with human existence but now he was locked within this frail body that had once belonged to Lars Hansel and with it came all the aches and desires that plagued mortal men. Vulthar reached down to the bloody wound, intending to heal it with his dark magic but he found that his powers were unable to seal the gap. The Elohim blade was beyond that.

The Peregrine, however, was not about to end his assault. Fueled by anger over both the loss of Andre and their failure to halt the ritual, he was not about to let Vulthar escape justice.

Dodging a burst of magical power from Vulthar, The Peregrine launched himself into the air. He performed a flip that would have impressed an Olympic judge, soaring over the villain�s head and landing smoothly behind his back.

Vulthar started to whirl about but it was too late. The Peregrine had planted his mark, driving the magical weapon he wielded straight into the madman�s back. The point of the blade protruded from Vulthar�s chest, dripping gore, and The Peregrine sawed it back and forth before finally yanking it free.

Sagging to his knees, Vulthar gasped. He knew what was coming. His spirit would soon be fleeing this body and he would be summoned back to the great beyond. There, he�d face his dark masters, and he could only hope that they would approve of his actions today. �It doesn�t matter,� he whispered, his voice carrying to The Peregrine�s keen ears. �They�re awake. You�ve already lost. My fierce Mother will carry the day.�

The Peregrine looked down at him, a grim expression on his face. �I�ve heard that sort of thing before, from a litany of evil bastards. Many of them served the same dark gods that you do: Doctor York, Nyarlathotep, Jacob Trench. In the end, they all lay dead at my feet. So forgive me if I doubt your words.� The Peregrine raised his blade once more and this time he buried it deep into the villain�s skull. The burning wound spread and consumed Vulthar�s flesh, causing it to peel away from the bone.

Just then, one of the windows shattered inward and both The Peregrine and Morgan prepared themselves for an incoming rush of Nazis. To their relief, they saw Samantha poke her pretty head in through the broken glass.

�C�mon, boys, there�s a fire escape we can use from here.�

Morgan shoved Dieter forward, urging him to climb up to the slightly raised window. From behind them, the guards out in the hall had begun shooting at the door, planning to weaken it enough for them to break it down. They succeeded just as The Peregrine followed his friends up and out of the window.

The vigilante turned back towards the Germans and reached into his jacket, pulling out a gas grenade. �Auf Wiedersehen,� he called out, tossing the bomb down to the floor. It detonated upon impact, filling the room with a dense cloud of smoke. The Nazis immediately began coughing, their eyes watering terribly and in that moment, the heroes were away.

But one of their number would not be going home with them. The Catalyst of the 19th Century had extended his tenure as long as possible but now it was time for another to wield the power.

Both Morgan and Max made a silent promise that his death would not be in vain.

Nimrod�s unhappiness was almost palpable. He had arrived in gloomy, rainy Sovereign City over an hour ago. Two German goons met him at the airport and he�d been disturbed by how stereotypical they had turned out to be. With their blond crew cuts and thick accents, they seemed like they had just stepped out of a bad movie.

Together, the three of them had traveled in relative silence to the harbor. While there was a thriving shipping business in Sovereign, Nimrod had heard that there was always a plethora of abandoned warehouses which were perfect for clandestine meetings of this kind. According to the bigger of the two Nazi agents, Nimrod was to be introduced to another special agent who had also just arrived in the city.

An expert at watching people, Nimrod noticed that both men seemed very uncomfortable whenever they mentioned this other being. He wasn�t sure if they were doing that out of fear or something else but he knew that he would find out soon enough.

When they�d entered the darkened warehouse, one of the men had fumbled with the lights before finally finding the right switch. Bright bulbs that hung overhead illuminated the interior and Nimrod blinked as he looked around. The warehouse was filled with wooden crates, many of them stacked precariously on top of each other.

After a moment of quiet, Nimrod turned to one of the men and said, �Where�s this guy at? Did you pick the wrong warehouse?�

A soft rustle of fabric set off Nimrod�s internal warning system. He spun about, drawing his gun. A shadowy figure could barely be seen, lurking about in the labyrinth of crates.

�I�m here,� the fellow said with a slightly mocking tone. �You�re Dimrod?�

�Nimrod,� the mercenary replied, emphasizing the first letter of his name. He was growing tired of having his identity tweaked. Most people learned quickly to show him proper respect. Unfortunately, he�d failed to adequately instruct The Peregrine on that fact and he knew it wouldn�t be wise to anger his Nazi employers at the moment. �What about you? What are you called?�

The figure that emerged into the light was hideous enough that both of the goons with Nimrod stepped back. Even Nimrod found himself unable to speak for a moment. Dressed in an outlandish costume, complete with a small cape, was a monstrous figure whose head appeared to be nothing more than a skull. Though he knew it must be some sort of mask, the complexity of the sculpting was astonishing.

�You can call me Mr. Death,� the man said. He took a courtly bow and added, �I�m the most dangerous man in the F�ehrer�s employ.�

Nimrod snorted. �Really? Look, son, if you were all that, you wouldn�t need the dramatic suit. The really scary people can terrify people without theatrics.�

�Says the man who named himself after the grandson of Noah.�

�That�s not the same thing as wearing a skull mask.�

Mr. Death suddenly reached up and seized the sides of his own head. He began yanking at it, sounding frightened as he said, �Oh, no! This mask! I can�t get it off! I put on too much glue!� He suddenly stopped and doubled over with laughter. �This handsome visage is all mine, Dimrod. Believe it or not.�

�I�ll take the not.� Nimrod put away his pistol. �Look, I�m here to kill The Peregrine. You can do whatever it is you�re supposed to do. Let�s just agree to stay out of each other�s way.�

�Plans have changed,� Mr. Death said. He moved towards Nimrod quickly, his cape billowing out behind him. �No sign of The Peregrine in town. He may have bolted back to Atlanta.�

�What? Jesus Christ!�

�You have a real thing for the Bible, don�t you?� Mr. Death placed his gloved hands on Nimrod�s shoulders, noting that the other man stiffened at his touch. �You�ll have to put your plans for the bird-man aside for now. I�m here at the direct orders of Himmler. There�s a� thing� here in town. I can sense it. I want it. I need it. You�re going to help me find it.�

Nimrod shrugged Mr. Death�s hands off of him. �Mister, I�ve never heard of you and I don�t know why you think I have to listen to you. As far as I�m concerned, we�re equals � at best. So if you have your own concerns, that�s fine. They�re your concerns. Me? I have one specific task and if The Peregrine�s isn�t in town, then there�s no need for me to be, either.�

Mr. Death stared at him in silence and Nimrod frowned. Up close, it was really amazing. He could see no seams in that mask. How was it attached? What was it made of? He�d seen human remains too many times to count so he was good at recognizing bones and he�d be damned if this didn�t look real.

Mr. Death turned away and tossed his hands in the air. �That�s disappointing, Dimrod. Really disappointing. I was hoping you and I could become pals. I wanted to sit on the front porch after a hard day�s work and share a couple of beers. Maybe talk about how Myrtle and Daisy are just driving us nuts but what can you do? Can�t live with them and can�t live without them! Am I right or am I right?�

�You�re insane.�

Mr. Death cackled and burst into action. He moved so fast that even Nimrod was frozen in place. The Nazi whirled and dove at the closest of the goons, raining a series of blows down upon the man�s face that sent droplets of blood flying into the air. He had launched himself at the other fellow within seconds, knocking the brute�s back against the wall. Grabbing the man by the ears, Mr. Death repeatedly slammed his skull against the wall, shattering the back of his head.

Nimrod remained where he was, watching with narrowed eyes. Mr. Death turned to face him and shrugged. �You figured it out, didn�t you?�

�What do you mean?�

Mr. Death tapped the side of his head. �I�m ker-azy.� He stepped over the corpses and moved back into the shadows. �Call Fritz. Ask him if you have to do what I say. Then you sit your ass down and prepare to listen to my plan. I�ll be right over here, washing this scum off my boots and gloves.�

Nimrod stared after him before walking out of the warehouse. He planned to call Fritz all right and he�d give him a piece of his mind. Not only did he not work with others, he certainly didn�t work with psychopaths.

That was a rule that he didn�t plan to violate any time soon.

Sighing, he realized that he really didn�t have any choice in the matter. Not yet, anyway. He was being held by the short hairs and if he wanted to get out with his skin intact, he might be forced to play along for a little while longer, even if it meant more contact with the bizarre Mr. Death.

Gravedigger approached the closed door and seized hold of the knob. It was locked, as nearly every other door at 6196 Robeson Avenue had turned out to be. �They really don�t trust me.�

�Well, you are going around trying to break into their rooms.�

�I am not. I�m just proving a point. They�re using us but they don�t accept us.� She gave a resigned shrug. �I did find a couple of places they didn�t lock up; the kitchen, the monitoring room, a few offices, and a trophy room.�

Cedric chuckled but he grew quickly serious when his employer sent a chilling glare in his direction. �I don�t understand why we�re here in the first place. The Peregrine had a vision showing a bad guy seizing The Unnervum. So we bring the thing back here where it can be stolen by the man with a skull face?�

�That�s what I wanted to know at first, too. But I think we have an advantage here. We know that someone is coming for it. And the defenses here are superior to what we have at Hendry Hall. So it makes sense to lure out skull face and see if we can take him down. I�m sure he�d be able to give us some information, too.�

�Before you kill him?�

�Yes.�

Cedric nodded. He didn�t have a big problem with the murderous nature of their shared mission. Given the turnstile approach to justice used by the local authorities, it sometimes seemed like the only way to truly remove criminals from the streets.

The Dark Gentleman�s voice came through the building PA system. �You two might want to come down to the viewing room. There�s something going on with The Unnervum.�

�We�re on our way,� Gravedigger replied. She sprinted towards the stairs, taking them two at a time. When she reached the first floor, Cedric was barely halfway down. He was in good physical shape but none of Gravedigger�s crew could keep up with Charity when she put the pedal to the floor.

�What�s going on?� she asked, stepping into what The Dark Gentleman had dubbed �the viewing room.� It wasn�t a poor description. There was a series of television monitors that showed every square inch of the city block surrounding the building. While it wasn�t foolproof, it certainly aided in making sure that no one snuck up on them without fair warning.

The Dark Gentleman gestured with a gloved hand to the crystal ball, which was glowing so brightly that Charity had to resist the urge to shield her eyes. �It started doing this about three minutes ago.�

�Why did you wait to call me?�

�I had to figure out how to access the speaker system. The tutorial I received covered the monitors but I don�t think they assumed you were going to be wandering around the building without me.�

The chastisement was so mild that Charity ignored it. She moved towards the occult relic with caution and with every step, she felt negative emotions begin to bubble up to the fore. Anger over The Dark Gentleman�s demeanor, his self-righteous crusade and even his garb all threatened to spill out of her but she managed to push them back down, knowing that it was merely the effects of The Unnervum at work. �It�s drawing power from something. It�s charging up.�

�I haven�t seen anything on the cameras, but you�re right. I can feel it, too. The Unnervum makes me antsy.�

�Same here.� Charity looked over her shoulder as Cedric entered the room. The expression on his face quickly became one of annoyance.

�What the hell are you two doing?�

�Calm down,� Charity said. �The crystal ball�s spewing its hate energy.�

Cedric frowned but kept quiet. When the phone began ringing, he gestured that he would get it and left the room, muttering under his breath. �I�m probably not qualified to help with that thing anyway.�

The Dark Gentleman bit his tongue before he fired off an angry retort. Taking a deep breath to control his emotions, he asked, �Should we move it down to the basement level?�

�The way it�s glowing, I�m not sure that would help. It�s growing stronger by the second.� Her eyes flicked over the various monitors, looking for any sign of what could be setting it off. She finally spotted something at the very edge of the block, near one of the alleyways. She tapped it and asked, �Can you zoom in on that?�

The Dark Gentleman did so and gradually the image sharpened, finally revealing the outline of a man. He was dressed almost like an old west gunfighter. �I don�t recognize him.�

�Neither do I but that doesn�t mean much. I suppose one of us could go out and talk to him.�

�I better do it. We don�t know if he deserves beheading yet.�

Gravedigger growled as The Dark Gentleman exited the viewing room. If he kept up this attitude of his, she�d show him just how deadly she could be. The thought made her smile beneath her mask and she was just beginning to become aware of how troubling that was when Cedric returned.

�Charity, you better come and take this call.�

�Who is it?� she demanded, a bit more harshly than she would have otherwise.

�He says his name is Mr. Death and he claims that he�s here to dance on our graves.�

Nimrod spat a wad of phlegm at the ground and kept his eyes on the large building that housed Assistance Unlimited. His conversation with Fritz had gone exactly as he�d suspected it would. He�d been given his marching orders, with no room for deviation. He was to work with Mr. Death and help the crazy man with his current mission, which was supposedly important to the future of the Reich.

Somehow, he had a hard time believing that. Hitler�s rise to power had been so dramatic and his speeches so impassioned that Nimrod could scarcely fathom that the F�ehrer would put stock into someone like Mr. Death.

Perhaps, he mused, Hitler wasn�t the genius the Germans liked to portray him as.

He was lost in his musings when he felt the barrel of a gun dig into his temple and an arm go around his throat, holding him so tightly that he could scarcely breathe.

Anger flooded through his veins. As if losing to The Peregrine wasn�t bad enough, now he�d let someone walk right up behind him?

He was losing his touch.

�What�s your name, cowboy?� the gunman hissed into Nimrod�s ear.

What happened next occurred so quickly that The Dark Gentleman was taken aback.

Nimrod drove his elbow into the Gentleman�s stomach and then he seized hold of his gun arm and twisted it, not quite breaking it but doing enough harm that the masked hero�s grip on his gun was loosened and the weapon fell to the ground.

Nimrod released his grip and dropped, seizing hold of the pistol and bringing it round to bear on the vigilante. �Nimrod,� he said. �The name�s Nimrod. And you?�

�The Dark Gentleman,� he said, slowly raising his hands.

�Dramatic.�

�I was thinking the same thing about you.�

Nimrod grunted. He felt more comfortable now and not just because he was the one holding the gun. Facing men in masks was part of his daily job and he was damned good when it came to killing vigilantes. It was only when he was forced to deal with Nazis and crazy people that he lost his footing. �Nimrod is a good description for me. I�m a hunter. A powerful one.�

The Dark Gentleman looked thoughtful and then he began nodding. �I think I�ve heard of you. You�re a murderer who targets heroes.�

�Heroes? Maybe some of them. Most of them are just guys who like to play dress-up and get innocent people killed. How about you? Anybody ever died in one of your firefights? Ever think that you should let the trained professionals handle guys like me?�

�I try to avoid firefights.�

�That�s why you carry a gun?�

�Insurance. And in a place like Sovereign, you can�t rely on the police to do the right thing. Besides, sometimes the law can be twisted and used for the wrong purpose.�

�Sounds like you�ve come up with quite an explanation for why you�re taking the law into your own hands.� Nimrod took a step closer and lowered his voice. �I take it that you�re working with Assistance Unlimited now?�

�Just house-sitting, actually.�

�My friend�s not going to like that,� Nimrod muttered. �He was hoping to meet the famous Lazarus Gray.�

�Does your friend have as colorful a name as you and I?�

�Mr. Death.�

�Charming.�

Nimrod grunted. Normally he would have killed The Dark Gentleman by now but it was almost a relief to talk to someone who wasn�t yanking his chain. �He�s a lunatic.�

The Dark Gentleman saw the brief flicker of emotion that passed over Nimrod�s face and he picked up on it immediately. �Mr. Death. So, you�re his sidekick or something?�

Nimrod�s face darkened considerably and The Dark Gentleman knew that he�d scored a direct hit. �I don�t play second fiddle to anybody, especially not somebody like him.�

�Sorry. I just got the feeling that he was calling the shots.�

�Well, he�s not.� Nimrod pointed the barrel of the gun at The Dark Gentleman�s chest and his finger began to twitch on the trigger. �I�ll keep your cute little cape as a souvenir.�

The Dark Gentleman twisted as Nimrod fired. His movement shifted the �cute little cape� so that it was facing Nimrod directly. The bullet struck the cloth at full force but amazingly it didn�t pass through it. The bullet was slowed enough that it became embedded in the material.

Hoping that Nimrod wouldn�t notice this, The Dark Gentleman hit the ground as if he�d been shot. He lay still and unmoving as Nimrod came forward to make sure that he was dead.

The cape had been lined with many durable layers of ultra-lightweight fiber, making it akin to a policeman�s vest. It was enough to keep The Dark Gentleman alive, though he�d be sporting a terrible bruise for weeks.

Nimrod nudged The Dark Gentleman�s legs and then, satisfied that there would be no need for a follow-up bullet, he knelt to yank away the cape. It was then that The Dark Gentleman revealed his ruse. He grabbed hold of Nimrod�s wrist and gave a mighty yank, pulling the killer to the ground with him.

The two men wrestled for control of the gun, each fearful that losing this battle would mean certain defeat, it not death. Nimrod was snarling and brutal but The Dark Gentleman managed to get on top of his opponent and this gave him the leverage that was needed to squeeze the pistol out of Nimrod�s grip.

The Dark Gentleman raised the pistol and slammed it down hard against Nimrod�s skull. It took two more quick blows before the killer stopped thrashing about. Blood oozed down the man�s forehead but he was still breathing, which was a good thing in The Dark Gentleman�s eyes. He always wanted to avoid taking a life if possible.

Reaching into his pockets, he pulled out a small coil of wire that he used to bind Nimrod�s wrists and ankles. He then turned back to 6196 Robeson Avenue, knowing that he needed to warn them about the man called Mr. Death.

Unfortunately, it was too late for that�.

Gravedigger held the receiver to her ear and asked, �Mr. Death?�

�That�s me!� came the slightly high-pitched reply. �Are you Samantha Grace? Because I have to say, you sound just as sexy as I thought you would.�

�Samantha�s not here.�

�Oh.� Mr. Death sounded disappointed but he suddenly brightened as he asked, �Are you the witch with the big ti��

�No!�

�Ah. No need to be so touchy, Fraulein. Not every girl can possess a set of knockers the size of Abigail Winter�s.�

�You sound like you know a lot about Assistance Unlimited,� she said. She put a gloved hand over the phone and hissed at Cedric, �Look at the cameras. He�s close, I�m sure of it!�

Cedric nodded and left the room, leaving Gravedigger on the phone with the so-called Mr. Death.

�I�ve read all the newspaper clippings,� Mr. Death replied. �I admit that I�m something of a fan. I mean, the stories! Supposedly, Lazarus Gray died and was reborn. Given my name, I take a real interest in such things. I mean, murdering people is kind of my thing these days. I plan to practice so much that I get really good at it!�

�Well then, you and I have something in common. I�m Gravedigger� and I kill people, too.�

There was a noticeable pause before Mr. Death spoke again. His voice was lower now and there was a hint of something new to it. Not fear but something more akin to anticipation. �Oh, my. You�re the one with the penchant for decapitation, aren�t you? Quite the rough stuff for this town! And Lazarus has you shacking up in his house? That�s surprising. I figured he�d frown on such things. Still, maybe he likes the bad girls.�

�Let me guess, Mr. Death. You wear a skull mask and you�re here to steal The Unnervum.�

�You�re half right.�

�Which half?�

�I don�t wear a mask.�

The click of the connection being severed sent Gravedigger into motion. She bolted into the monitor room and saw Cedric staring at one of the screens. He noticed her entry and said, �No sign of Mr. Death but it looks like The Dark Gentleman and our mystery cowboy are fighting it out.�

Charity saw the two men on the tiny screen, rolling about as each fought to gain control of the gun. �We have to hope that Michael can handle his own business.�

A blaring alarm suddenly interrupted her and a new monitor flared to life, showing the roof of their building. A man had appeared in a puff of smoke, literally materializing out of thin air. He was dressed in dark clothing and the lack of flesh on his head made it immediately clear that this was the mysterious Mr. Death.

�Stay here,� she said. �Monitor my fight and if it looks like I�m going to lose, you contact Fortune McCall or Doc Daye. Understand?�

Cedric nodded. All the angry fire was gone from his eyes now, having been burned away by the adrenaline induced by the current situation. �Charity, be careful.�

�I will.� She drew her sword and it gleamed dangerously in the light. �He�s the one who needs to worry.�

Mr. Death dropped through the rooftop, coming down in the bedroom that Lazarus Gray shared with his wife. The young woman was at her father�s home for her own safety, having been directed to stay out of sight until the current crisis was over.

Mr. Death was unaware of Gray�s recent marital bliss or else he would have been disappointed by her absence. He delighted in causing pain and the mere thought of killing a new bride would have made him giddy. Thankfully, this was not to be the case. He did, however, take note of the perfume that lingered in the air and the ladies� garments that still lay across the bedspread. He chuckled, wondering if Lazarus Gray had certain inclinations that might be useful to know. He�d known a sergeant once that had worn women�s� underclothes beneath his uniform and the man�s chagrin at being discovered was still worthy of a chuckle.

He moved to the door, eager to find The Unnervum. He could feel it humming in his bones, amplifying his madness. He was certain that it was grooving to his own ambient psychic energies, too. They were going to make a great pair. So good, in fact, that he might hesitate to share it with The Mother of Pus or her masters.

Time for thoughts of betrayal at a later date, he mused. Focus on the task at hand and there will be plenty of opportunities for murder and mayhem in the future!

He was thinking such happy thoughts when he stepped out into hallway and came face-to-face with Gravedigger. The sword-wielding vigilante wasted no time with pleasantries � she swung her weapon with deadly intent, the blade cutting through the villain�s bony neck. His head was lopped off and the skull spun about in the air before tumbling down, where it was caught by Mr. Death�s gloved hands.

Gravedigger took several steps back as Mr. Death placed his skull back atop his shoulders, screwing it back-and-forth as if reattaching it. Then the lower jaw opened and the glowing of the eye-sockets resumed, none the worse for wear.

�Nasty little bitch, aren�t you?� he laughed. �I like a woman who plays rough!�

�You�re not human,� she whispered, realizing just how dangerous this encounter could turn out to be.

�And you stink of the supernatural, toots, so we�re equal.� Mr. Death spread his hands wide and asked, �Want to see what I can do?�

Gravedigger braced herself and it was a good thing that she did because Mr. Death attacked with astonishing speed. He lunged for her, blades springing out from below his wrists. The knives were attached to some sort of hidden spring mechanism that was hidden by his dark attire but their sharpness was undeniable. The metallic clang they made upon connecting with Gravedigger�s blocking sword was quite loud.

The two of them began a delicate dance, one that would have been almost beautiful if not filled with deadly intent. They moved quickly, parrying each other�s blows and constantly seeking the weak spot in their opponent�s defenses. Twice Mr. Death�s knives drew long streaks of crimson on Gravedigger�s sides and three times did her sword dip into the madman�s body, though the thick black goo that oozed from the wounds was unlike any blood that she had seen before.

The confined space of the hallway limited them somewhat but both proved capable of making the most of the area and their own abilities. Gravedigger ducked and weaved like a prizefighter, once sprinting up the wall and diving back down at Mr. Death, who barely escaped with his skull intact. She was no longer looking to merely slice his head off. Now she was looking to crush the bones into tiny pieces.

Mr. Death, meanwhile, was able to convert his form into mist as needed, allowing him to quickly dart behind her. This proved to be a powerful skill and Gravedigger found herself tiring from being forced to spin about so often.

�You�re slowing down,� Mr. Death said. �And while I normally love to hear a lovely lady breathing heavy, in this case I think it�s starting to get a bit boring.� He stepped back, as if ready to stop the battle. �How about you surrender and I�ll go easy on you. Make it nice and quick.�

Taking a deep breath, Gravedigger hissed, �You�re insane.�

�I prefer to think of myself as incorrigible.�

Gravedigger stabbed once more with her blade but Mr. Death allowed it to pass through his body. He solidified with the sword embedded in his body, trapped so it was difficult for her retrieve. He grabbed hold of her wrist and twisted until she was forced to release her grip on the hilt. He then shoved her away from him and went intangible again, allowing the sword to hit the floor.

�Poor baby. You lost your weapon,� Mr. Death said.

Without missing a beat, Gravedigger pointed her wrist-mounted crossbow and activated its controls. The bolt flew straight and true, lodging in Mr. Death�s right eye socket.

He staggered, gripping the sides of his head and wailing in agony. Abruptly, he stopped and asked, �How much longer are we going to do this? You. Can�t. Hurt. Me. Understand? I�m immune to physical pain!�

�Then it�s a good thing that I can hurt you in more ways than just that,� Gravedigger replied. She reached into one of the pouches on her belt and pulled forth an unusual looking polished stone. Mr. Death paused in his rantings, obviously concerned by the sudden change in his opponent�s tactics. �This,� she said, raising the stone in front of her. �Is called the Devil�s Eyeball, a powerful relic dating back to the 1300s. It can only be used once but it contains enough demonic energy to banish you to the deepest pit of Hell.�

�Somehow I don�t think that�s normally part of your repertoire.�

�It�s not. But Lazarus Gray has lots of these little toys lying around and if you know anything about him, you�ll know that�s the truth. So are you willing to test it?�

Mr. Death reached up and yanked the crossbow bolt from his eye socket. He tossed it aside and asked, �Is this where we finally get down to bargaining?�

�This is when you turn tail and run. Stay and I�m going to destroy you.�

�You�re bluffing.�

�Then call me on it and we�ll see what happens.�

With a mad laugh, Mr. Death lunged towards her. He spread his arms and for a moment he seemed to hang in the air like some ghoulish gargoyle. Then Gravedigger pushed The Devil�s Eyeball in his direction and squeezed it with all her might.

A beam of emerald energy shot forth, enveloping Mr. Death. The mad villain gave a surprised squawk and vanished. She had no idea if he had really been sent to Hell. The placard on the display had been more than a little obscure on that point. Still, as she tossed the now useless relic to the floor, she felt a small twinge of satisfaction. Gray had thought she�d pillage his headquarters while he was away� and he�d been absolutely correct.

And it had saved the day.

�Take that, Lazarus,� she whispered.

Cedric�s voice came through the building�s PA system. �What the hell did you just do?� he asked.

�I�ll explain later. Did The Dark Gentleman return?�

�He just did, and he�s got the cowboy with him. Some idiot named Nimrod.�

�Good. Maybe this whole thing is going to blow over. I mean, if everyone else is doing as well as we are, what could go wrong?�

Mitchell pulled the curtains aside and looked out onto the streets of Washington. It hadn�t been all that long ago that Gravedigger had led her forces to this great city in order to protect the world from the evils of Pandora and now he and Li were back again.

It wasn�t lost on him that the color of his skin made him a second-class citizen in this country. Hell, the same could be said of both Li and Eun. The two of them were seated together, whispering in quiet tones and obviously enjoying each other�s company.

Mitchell thought that if the rest of the world could get along as well as this most unusual group, everything would eventually turn out fine. A black Englishman, a Chinese-American, a Korean-American and a white man, all acting for the common good.

Mitchell looked back and saw that Lazarus was staring at the phone. �Expecting a call?� he asked, letting the curtains fell shut.

�Yes, actually. A friend by the name of Ascott Keane agreed to offer some assistance. He�s going to help us try and locate Darhoth.�

Eun hopped up, obviously eager to get on to some sort of action. �She�s some sort of demon, right?�

�Something like that,� Lazarus said. �Based upon the things that Nyarlathotep said and the various visions our friends have had, I think she�s the key to the entire thing. If we can bring her up short, we might be able to stop this affair from snowballing out of control.�

The phone�s ringing cut off whatever response that Eun might have had.

Lazarus snatched up the receiver and asked, �Hello?�

Mitchell was certain that the man on the other end of the line was Keane. The intent way that Lazarus listened to whatever was being said made it clear that this was the call he�d been waiting for.

�I understand,� Lazarus said. �Thank you.� He hung up and looked at the others with a grim expression.

�What did he say?� Mitchell asked, afraid that the answer would not be a pleasant one.

It wasn�t.

�According to Keane, he and a lot of other mystics detected something massive earlier this evening emanating from Washington, D.C. It was a spell of ancient origin and design, one that was so powerful that its effects won�t be fully felt for hours, possibly even days.�

�So, you�re saying we were too late?� Li asked. Her pretty features were full of dismay and Eun couldn�t stop himself from reaching out to give her shoulder a comforting squeeze.

Lazarus held up a hand, indicating that she should remain calm. �Given the reports that we�ve received from Max and Charity, we have to be pleased with how things have gone to this point. But I now wonder if Darhoth didn�t plan all of this as a stalling tactic. It�s possible that not even her other agents were aware of this. By splitting our forces, she�s kept us from putting all of our efforts into stopping her alone.�

Mitchell shook his head. �I don�t know if I�d say we �have to be pleased� with anything, Lazarus. Catalyst is dead, remember?�

�I haven�t forgotten,� Lazarus tersely replied. �He was my friend.� Moving towards the door, Lazarus began barking orders over his shoulder. �Eun! I want you to get the rental car ready. Li and Mitchell, please carry down the weapons.�

Mitchell snapped to it, snatching up a briefcase filled with deadly implements, both occult and mundane.

Li waited until Eun was gone, having hurried after his employer. She lowered her voice and asked, �Why are we acting like he�s the boss? I haven�t seen him do anything that you couldn�t have done.�

�Thanks. I think.� Mitchell gave her a serious look and added, �Look, I wish we�d been paired up with Charity, too, but that wasn�t how it played out. She asked us to work with Lazarus and his friends so that�s what we have to do.�

With a weary shrug, Li followed him out of the room. She really didn�t mind Lazarus all that much. It was more the fact that he and his friends represented all that she and Charity had never been given. Whereas Assistance Unlimited were respected by the everyday man and woman, Gravedigger�s crew were regarded as little better than the criminals they hunted. And the way that Charity�s half-sister had been raised in the lap of luxury while Charity had scraped by, hand to mouth� It was enough to raise the bile in Li�s throat.

Downstairs, Eun and Lazarus were having a similar conversation after the young Korean had brought the car around to the front of the hotel. As Lazarus slid into the passenger seat, he asked, �Something troubling you, Eun?�

�You mean besides the fact that Darhoth might have doomed humanity already?�

�Yes.�

Eun frowned. �I like looking at Li but I don�t trust her. She�s only pretending to be working with us and I don�t think we should have let Gravedigger into our base.�

�She�s Samantha�s sister.�

�Half-sister.�

Lazarus fixed his steely gaze upon his friend. �It�s important to her that we try to repair our relations with Charity. I don�t like their methods but I feel we owe that to her.�

Eun grinned. �And to think that people say you�re an unfeeling beast.�

�Who says that?� Lazarus asked, arching one eyebrow.

�Just kidding,� Eun hastily replied. He was about to quickly change the subject when a bright glow illuminated the entire street, causing a passing car to veer off the road as its driver was suddenly blinded. The vehicle slammed into a cigar stand, sending several passing innocents flying to the ground in bloody heaps.

Eun and Lazarus both raised their arms, trying to protect their eyes from the glare. They saw a female shape in the midst of the glow emanating from just a few feet in front of their parked car.

The doorman of the hotel approached, muttering under his breath, and Lazarus cried out as the woman raised her right hand and let loose some sort of powerful magical blast that eradicated all trace of the poor man.

�It�s over for you,� Darhoth mumbled, the light beginning to fade. �I kept my true plans away from everyone, even my closest advisors.� She looked lovely and terrible, all at once. A crooked smile touched her full lips, as if she were still learning how to manipulate human expressions. �People revere you as if you were gods but this is your twilight, Lazarus Gray. This is the day that you bow down before your betters.�

Lazarus drew his pistol. �Never.�

Darhoth gave a shrug. �You�re not paying attention. Your friends did their part but it was all a ruse, a way for me to keep you from uniting against me. I�ve done it. I�ve woken them all and now you�re going to face the one, true force that governs this universe: Chaos.�

Lazarus frowned, knowing that the itch that had been bothering him in the back of his brain now made sense. It had all seemed too pat, the way the villains of the piece were splitting up, allowing his friends to scatter to do battle with them. Now he knew why: Darhoth had planned it along, spreading them apart so that they would not be able to stand together against her.

Darhoth let loose with another burst of energy, this one barely missing Lazarus and Eun. They were thrown to the ground and the back of Eun�s skull struck hard, leaving a small patch of blood beneath his head. His vision swam for a moment and he felt nauseous but with tremendous effort, he crawled to his knees and steadied himself. When he looked back up, however, he saw an image that chilled him to his core.

�Oh my god,� he whispered.

Lazarus looked up as well, seeing something massive dropping from the skies above. It was so large that it blocked out a huge expanse of stars. Vaguely humanoid in form, its face was dark and full of dark portent.

The newly arrived creature laughed maniacally and Lazarus uttered a soft prayer, finding solace in a higher power that he didn�t even think he�d believed in until this very moment.

And then everything really and truly went to hell.

The hurried footsteps set off warning bells in Gravedigger�s head. She wheeled about to see a black-booted figure lunging at her from beneath a black arch, the crimson armband of the SS clearly on view. It was dark in Sovereign but Charity could make out a fierce, squat face and the gleam of steel in his right hand � a wickedly curved dagger that had obviously seen a lot of use over the years.

Avoiding the thrust of the soldier�s blade with a skillful twist of her lithe form, Gravedigger grunted as the edge of the weapon tore through her uniform and scratched against the heavy padding she wore beneath.

Before the Nazi could recover his balance, Gravedigger seized his arm and brought a fist down into the man�s face. His nose shattered, the fellow slid to the ground without a sound.

Gravedigger stood over her fallen foe, her senses on full alert. A few moments before, she�d seen a winged sentry fly overhead but if it kept to its usual path, it wouldn�t return to this area of the city for another half hour. One sentry, however, usually meant that there would be more in the area.

Sure enough, she heard the sounds of muffled footsteps around the next corner. Nighttime was never safe in Sovereign but on this night, it was even more dangerous than usual. This was the anniversary of The F�ehrer�s Triumph, that terrible day one year before when Hitler and his alliance with the occult forces of Darhoth had triumphed, plunging the entire world into his dark embrace.

Drawing her sword, Gravedigger hurried away from the arches and allowed the shadows of a nearby alleyway to swallow her up. She quickly turned onto a wide street, just a few blocks away from where the headquarters of Assistance Unlimited had once stood. The once-proud structure had been razed to the ground and the Nazis were currently building a government building on the site. The monolithic structure was going to be drab and gray, though adorned with horrible sculptures perched on its sides like gargoyles. The statues would depict the awful entities that ruled the world now, using Hitler as their human puppet: hideous, slithering things with tentacles and repulsive features. They were the demons of humanity�s worse nightmares, given new life and freedom, all because the heroes of the world had failed.

Gravedigger frowned beneath her mask, thinking of all that had been lost. Her friends, one by one, had been hunted down and slaughtered. Cedric had been the last of her former compatriots, surviving on one good leg until a Deep One had devoured him last month.

She could still hear his screams.

A few moments later, she rapped upon an unmarked door. The manner in which she knocked � two quick strikes, followed by four harder blows � was a code that told the person within that she was safe. A half-second later, the door opened and she pushed her way in without preamble, barking, �Lock the door!�

The man who slammed the barricade shut behind her had once been considered quite handsome. His dimpled chin had adorned the covers of magazines from coast to coast, usually accompanied by rather lurid descriptions of his adventures and the mysteries surrounding his origins.

Born Richard Winthrop, he had washed up on the shores of Sovereign City after being left for dead by his former allies in The Illuminati. Christening himself Lazarus Gray, he had embarked on a new life for himself, one dedicated to righting the wrongs of the world.

But one year ago, he�d failed to see the truth that lay right in front of him: that he was being played for a fool. As such, the jagged scar that stretched from his left eye all the way down to his chin was a constant reminder of his defeat.

�What happened?� he asked, his voice sounding hoarse and dry. He�d inhaled steaming hot vapor during the night of Darhoth�s victory and ever since, he�d barely been able to speak above a whisper.

�The rumors are true. They captured Max.� Gravedigger shoved back her hood and yanked off her mask. She was still lovely but she�d aged considerably over the past few months. Worry lines around her mouth and on her forehead made her look ten years older than she really was. �According to the radio broadcasts, he�s going to be publicly executed at midnight tonight.�

�City Hall?�

�Yes.�

Lazarus moved over to a map of the city. Photographs of their dead friends were tacked up all over its surface, showing where they�d perished. He�d returned to Sovereign, as had all the others, after the horrors of the Old Ones had been unleashed upon the world. Somehow, even without someone like Catalyst around to confirm it, they all knew that Sovereign was going to be the site of their last stand.

He tapped the City Hall area of the map, his mind momentarily going back to the night that he and his friends had gone in search of The Unnervum. That horrific device was now in the hands of the enemy, both drawing on the madness of the city�s populace and amplifying their fears. �Is Hitler still in town? If he is, he�s going to be there for the execution.�

�He is but I don�t think we should risk ourselves going after him.�

�We�re the only three heroes left,� Lazarus said in disbelief, turning to face her. �And we could certainly use his gift of prescience.�

�It didn�t help keep him from getting captured,� she pointed out.

Lazarus moved towards her and cupped her face in his hands. �We owe it to him. You know that.�

�We don�t owe him anything,� she said harshly. �If we get ourselves captured or killed, nobody benefits. We have to protect ourselves. He�d understand that.�

These two people, who just one year before had been almost enemies, were now bound together. Both had lost their loved ones and their freedom. They sometimes shared a bed now, though neither of them would ever claim that their affection was anything more than a product of their situation. Still, they were intimate and that gave Lazarus� words extra meaning. �You and I both came back from the dead to make the world a better place. If we don�t expend every last breath we have fighting for that, we�ve wasted everything. All of our friends� lives, all of our hard work, all that we�ve suffered through� none of it will matter. We have to rescue The Peregrine.�

Charity frowned but after staring into his mismatched eyes, she finally relented. �On one condition.�

�What?�

�If I get a chance, I�m killing The F�ehrer�

�I�ll try to make sure you get that chance,� he whispered.

They kissed and then parted quickly, each preparing for the night�s work in their own way.

The Peregrine pushed away the tray of food and barely stifled a groan of disgust. The �soup� was full of sawdust, which could end up leading to dysentery. Even with death seemingly staring him in the face, Max wasn�t ready to go out with his guts in turmoil.

He sat back on the small cot that was the only furniture in his cell and closed his eyes. When he did this, it was easy to remember the way things used to be back when he could find solace in the arms of Evelyn, or smell Nettie�s pancake�s cooking on a Sunday morning.

All of that was gone now, of course. He had lost track of Evelyn months ago. He hoped she was still with Benson, the enigmatic avenger who had offered to keep her safe, but he had no way of knowing if that were true.

He opened his eyes again, lest the visions come once more. They�d haunted him for many years, teasing him of violent acts that were yet to occur. Eventually, he�d learned that they were being sent from beyond the grave by his own father, who had molded his heir into a living vessel of vengeance against the kinds of men who had killed him.

Lately, the visions had been, if anything, even grimmer than the reality in which The Peregrine found himself. He saw humanity being completely snuffed out, devoured by the mad god Azathoth as the ancient entity descended from the stars to end this reality once and for all. He sometimes saw himself as a puppet of these dark creatures, existing in other places and times. Like Darhoth, his body would be perverted for their evil purposes.

Hearing approaching footsteps, Max stood up and made himself ready. It was hours before his execution time but he wouldn�t put it past the Nazis to want to get in some old-fashioned torture beforehand.

He wished he had something besides his fists with which to defend himself. The Knife of Elohim was in Hitler�s possession now, another artifact in the madman�s growing collection of occult relics. He�d hoped to drive the blade deep into the little man�s black heart but that looked like a false dream.

The figure who emerged from the darkness to stand before his cell was the living embodiment of lunacy. In some ways, he perfectly embodied the current world: darkly impressive in his fashion but also full of corruption. He was Mr. Death and he gave a gallant bow before addressing his captured foe.

�Tonight�s the night, Mr. Davies. Are you as excited as I am?�

�Shaking with anticipation,� The Peregrine replied. He looked away, not feeling like playing the kinds of games that Mr. Death enjoyed. The skull-faced man liked to taunt his prey with reminders of his dead family and friends. �Are you going to be there watching or will you be too busy on your knees servicing The F�ehrer?�

�Tut-tut,� Mr. Death cautioned. �That�s not nice at all.�

�What�s the point of manners when I�m going to be killed in less than 24 hours?�

Mr. Death stepped close to the bars and lowered his voice to a whisper. �I�m bored.�

The Peregrine glanced up, a frown on his face. �Stay tuned. It�s going to get more interesting, I�d wager.�

�The war�s over, hero. You lost. My side won. Now there�s going to be a Thousand Year Reich, during which the rest of the Old Ones will restore their power. And then� poof! They�re going to snuff us all out.�

�That�s what you wanted, wasn�t it? Pure chaos.�

�This isn�t chaos. It�s the opposite. Hitler rules humanity with an iron fist while the masters pull his strings. There�s no resistance left, aside from Lazarus and Gravedigger.�

�They�re still alive?� The Peregrine asked, unable to hide his curiosity.

�Oh, yes� but there�s just the two of them. It won�t be long before they�re dead, along with all the rest. Hell, even if you were to escape somehow, there�s not much the three of you could do. Not without help.�

Max slowly rose to his feet and approached the cell. Was he really hearing this? Was Mr. Death truly so deranged that he�d turn on his own side just to make things� interesting? �If I were to reunite with them,� he began, �we might not be able to win but we�d sure rattle some chains before we went down. Especially if, like you say, we had some inside help.�

Mr. Death chuckled. �Now don�t go thinking you and I are buddies, okay? This is just to further my own sick little ends, get it?�

�I get it.�

Mr. Death reached into the folds of his cloak and pulled free an emerald-colored glove along with Max�s favorite weapon � The Knife of Elohim. The blade glowed brightly in Mr. Death�s grip and it sizzled, burning the villain as it made contact with his evil form. The madman seemed to either ignore the pain or, even worse, to enjoy it.

The Peregrine recognized the glove immediately as having belonged to Andre. �Here�s your knife back and this is pretty much all that�s left of that little Negro,� Mr. Death said as he held up the glove, his words causing Max�s gut to churn with distaste. �But according to just about everybody, it still holds of his mystic juice.�

�And what would I do with that?� The Peregrine asked.

�Come on, do I have to do everything here?� Mr. Death asked in mock annoyance. �Look, all I ask is that you wait to use it when I�m not around. There are going to be enough questions about how you got your hands on it without me being present. Wait until I�m gone. Give me at least fifteen minutes.�

The Peregrine accepted the glove and his holy weapon and said nothing as Mr. Death spun on his heels and scurried away, much like the rat that Max thought of him as. There was no denying that this glove contained power. It coursed through Max�s fingers and touched something deep inside his soul. Given his own connection to the other side, it wasn�t completely surprising to Max when he heard Andre�s distinctive voice in his head:

Hello there, mon ami. I would say that I hope you are well but I think it is safe to say that you are not.

�Any recommendations?� Max whispered, moving back into the shadowy recesses of his cell.

There is only enough magic left in the glove for one good burst, I am afraid. You should make it count.

The Peregrine stared at the back wall of his prison, knowing that on the other side was freedom. Should he use it now, to blast his way out? Or would it be best for everyone to wait until his supposed execution, when he might be able to take out Hitler and his cronies, even if it meant his own death?

Keep in mind how we got to this point, Andre whispered inside his head. That�s the last bit of advice I can give you.

Max paused, feeling the connection to Andre�s spirit slowly being severed. Whatever afterlife awaited the former Catalyst, Max knew that it was now irrevocably calling. �Know peace,� Max said. �You�ve earned it.�

�Why the long face, Herr Himmler? You are the hero of the people, are you not?�

The tone in Josef Goebbels� voice carried only the slightest trace of resentment but Himmler picked up on it easily enough. The Reich�s Propaganda Minister was jealous of Himmler�s new position in things but that wasn�t the full extent of it. Like so many others who had initially basked in the Reich�s sudden victory, they were beginning to have second thoughts about a world in which monsters strode the earth eating the unwary� and more and more of them were beginning to cast aspersions at the man given credit for so much of it. Heinrich Himmler and his OFP had been trumpeted loudly for their role in the rise of Darhoth and her ilk and now everyone knew who to thank � or blame � for the result.

Himmler adjusted the medals he wore on his uniform and tried to maintain a brave face. Truth be told, he was beginning to wonder at his role in things, as well. For the Reich to be victorious was wonderful, of course. And the Jewish problem was simply no more. The last of the full-blooded sub-humans had been thrown into the pits last week, leaving the world free of their ilk. Those of one-half Jewish blood or less were left alive to serve in menial positions but there would come a day when they, too, would be purged to feed the hungers of the Reich�s new alien masters.

And that was the unspoken truth of it, wasn�t it? Hitler was F�ehrer in name but it was the Mother of Pus and all her kind who truly ruled over all.

Himmler had damned the human race.

�Just feeling a bit melancholy,� he said, glancing over at Goebbels. The two men were walking down a long tunnel that led to the site of The Peregrine�s execution. The entire area had been heavily modified since the Nazis had captured Sovereign, mostly for the protection of the government�s elite. While The F�ehrer spent the vast majority of his time in Germany, he made occasional forays to the United States and his other holdings, splitting time between Washington, New York and Sovereign when in North America. Before Goebbels could speak again, he continued, �Once The Peregrine is dead, there will only be Gravedigger and Lazarus Gray left behind.�

�And�?�

�Once all our enemies are vanquished, we have to move on to the truly hard work: governing in our paradise.� Himmler hoped that his true feelings didn�t come through. If this was a paradise, then he hoped to never see Hell.

Goebbels was an intelligent man, however. He pursed his lips together thoughtfully, tossing a quick salute to a soldier they passed. When he spoke, it was in measured tones that told Himmler that the thin man was in agreement with him. �This is not the Reich that I envisioned. Nor, I imagine, is it the one that The F�ehrer imagined. But we have to deal with the cards we are dealt, do we not?� Lowering his voice even further, he said, �And our unearthly allies may not always be with us. They were defeated once, long ago and I think that perhaps your OFP could find a way to replicate that? For the good of the Reich, of course.�

Himmler smiled slightly. It would be dangerous to go against Darhoth and the others but, as Goebbels pointed out, they were not unbeatable. �Yes,� he said in reply. �For the good of the Reich.�

�They plot against us and think we�re incapable of hearing them.�

Darhoth sat at her dining room table, hearing the chiming of the bells in the distance. It was time to kill The Peregrine but she wasn�t finished with her evening�s meal. They would wait for her to arrive. To do otherwise was to invite her wrath and no one wanted that.

Most of her beauty was gone now, having been ravaged by the foulness that lurked within her human flesh. She was cadaverous, the skin hanging loosely off her bones. Even though she ate constantly, the weight loss continued. She shoveled eyeballs, tongues and other body parts claimed from slaves and prisoners into her mouth, crunching them loudly and letting bits of blood and gore drip down her chin.

Dieter Schneider could scarcely bear to look at her. He had long ago stopped thinking of her as Sonya but it still pained him to look into the once-gorgeous face of his daughter. She insisted on keeping him close by, forcing him to dine with her and listen to her paranoid ranting. He had wondered for a time if some part of his daughter still lay within and desired the company of her father. Lately, he had come to think it was simply more cruelty on the part of Darhoth. She wanted to torture him by watching as his daughter�s body fell to ruin.

�Are you listening to me?� she demanded to know.

�Of course,� he replied. �It�s just impossible for me to believe that anyone would dare to conspire against you.�

�Humans are nothing if not predictable� and stupid. Their lives are so short that it�s impossible for them to have a true view of the consequences of their actions.�

Dieter remained silent, not sure how to respond without angering her. He was quite relieved when a servant entered the room, his hands clasped behind his back. Dieter had noticed the fellow several times in recent days but didn�t know the man�s name. With a somewhat hawk-shaped nose and severely swept-back hair, the servant was quite striking, though Dieter thought it was the man�s eyes that were most remarkable. They were narrowed and focused, like those of a hunting cat. The servant spoke with fluent German but Dieter thought that perhaps he was an American who had lived abroad at some point.

�The execution is set to begin soon,� the servant said.

The Mother of Pus shoved her plate away and stood up, not caring about the mess she had made on the floor and table. �Another hero dies,� she said with relish. �Perhaps this will be the night that humanity�s spirit is well and truly crushed.�

Dieter rose to follow the thing that had once been his daughter but he caught a subtle gleam in the servant�s eyes, as if he�d taken umbrage to The Mother of Pus�s words. Suddenly, Dieter realized where he had seen this man before. It had been in various newspapers over the years! A wealthy man-about-town named Harold Grant, who had become well-known for traveling the globe and taking part in safaris, mountain climbing and the like.

Dieter sighed and looked away. He wasn�t the only one, it seemed, whose life had taken a severe turn for the worse.

The man that Dieter recognized as Harold Grant actually had far more in common with The Mother of Pus than might be first realized. In many ways, both of them wore the skin of another but they were hardly what they appeared to be. The real Harold Grant lay buried in an unmarked grave in the mountains of Tibet. It was Dexter Welles, famed World War I flying ace, who now occupied Grant�s identity. The two of them had crossed paths during one of Dexter�s many self-destructive journeys but in the end, Grant�s demise had in turn helped lead to Dexter�s own transformative resurrection.

Welles had been a pilot in the Great War, quite possibly the greatest who had ever lived. But once the war was over, he had been left purposeless and without direction. In wartime, his ability to kill had made him a hero but in the �peaceful� world that followed, he had run the risk of becoming something far, far worse. And so he�d traveled the globe, drinking and fighting, seeking something to fill the void in his soul.

He�d found it in Tibet. Near death after Grant�s own demise, Welles had been found by a monk who had taught him certain peculiar skills of the mind and body. He had returned to America, armed with this ancient knowledge, and assumed Grant�s life and fortune. He had used both to build a career as a vigilante, as well � The Darkling, a scourge against all who preyed upon the innocent. His violent abilities were now honed to their utmost and turned against the criminal element. He became feared throughout the underworld and both clashed and worked alongside Lazarus Gray on several occasions.

Unfortunately, the recent rise of darkness had been more than The Darkling could combat. Like everyone else, he had seen friends and agents die. Now he wondered if the world would ever be the same. It had taken months to ingratiate himself inside the Nazi leadership and what he�d discovered had been enough to chill even his cold-hearted blood. These were forces of evil far beyond anything he had ever dealt with before.

Slipping down the hall, he discarded the plates and their bits of foul food into a trash bin before ducking into a small room. It had a window that led out to a fire escape and, eventually, to the alley below. He had secreted some clothing in this room earlier and he donned it now, knowing that if he was going to save The Peregrine�s life, he only had moments to do so. A white face mask covered his face, a skull-like image emblazoned upon the front. A hat and heavy coat were then donned over his suit, successfully completing his transformation into The Darkling. It was said that while most men and women could only guess at the horrors that lay within men�s souls, The Darkling knew them intimately.

On this day, he felt certain that truism would be put to the test.

Mr. Death sat at the back of the large wooden box that had been constructed in front of City Hall. It held seats for twenty people and with The Mother of Pus finally taking hers, it was now filled to capacity. The F�ehrer, along with Goebbels and Himmler, was seated in the very front row, affording him the best possible view of The Peregrine�s demise.

The vigilante had been permitted to wear his trademark mask and heroic attire, all the better for the many cameras to capture his final moments in dramatic detail. The photos would be dispersed far and wide, making sure that any remaining pockets of resistance that were out there would see what happened to those who opposed the new world order.

Nimrod, the so-called �mask killer�, was also nearby, trying in vain to keep his face neutral. The man had been tasked with hunting down and killing vigilantes in the early days but now his work was nearly at his end � and his usefulness with it. Mr. Death was sure that Nimrod was already plotting his escape but it wouldn�t do him any good. In fact, Nimrod�s death had already been arranged. By the morning, he�d be dead, a victim of the slow-acting poison he�d ingested at dinner.

Mr. Death had no silly notions that his own value was any higher than Nimrod�s, not that such things had played a role in his decision to help The Peregrine. He was, as he�d intimated, simply bored with the new world in which he�d found himself. Victories were only as sweet as the effort put forth to achieve them and with their unholy allies, The Reich had steamrolled over any and all who had opposed them.

And now what? The slow destruction of humanity? Oh, sure, there might be a few ghoulish chuckles to be had along the way but Mr. Death craved more. He wanted adventure, intrigue and spicy encounters. All three were going to be increasingly rare as The Mother of Pus and her ilk increased their control.

A ripple went through the crowd as the condemned appeared, being led out by a squadron of SS soldiers. Military music blared and Mr. Death looked closely at The Peregrine, wondering if the man was as calm as he appeared. If Max Davies was trembling at the thought of his demise, he gave no sign of it. Outwardly, he remained defiant, looking at the faces of his captors as if marking each of them for eventual vengeance.

Mr. Death knew no one had bothered to search the prisoner. Why should they, after all? He�d been searched multiple times in recent days and there was no way for him to have gotten anything new. The glove was, no doubt, secreted away in the hero�s jacket. How he�d utilize it, Mr. Death wasn�t sure, since the man�s hands were bound behind his back, but he was sure that The Peregrine wouldn�t go quietly into this good night.

He hoped not, anyway.

The Peregrine was brought before the assembled crowd and held in place for a moment while a litany of his crimes were read aloud. The F�ehrer and his advisors were smiling and savoring the moment but Mr. Death hoped that their good humor would be fouled soon enough.

When the recitation of charges was complete, The Peregrine was asked if he wished to admit to his crimes and ask for any small favors that might be permitted. It wouldn�t benefit him to plead for mercy, of course, but it was all part of the dog-and-pony show that the Nazis craved.

The Peregrine looked at the faces in the crowd and then spoke in flawless German, repeating each sentence in English so that everyone could hear him. �My only crime is in not doing more for the innocent and the weak. Unlike the F�ehrer and the monsters that he serves, I believe that there is more to life than the acquisition of power and the enslavement of others. I believe in the American dream. I believe in freedom and liberty. And I believe that no matter what happens today, the human spirit cannot and will not be broken. Men and women will rise up and oppose these dictators and monsters.�

A murmuring went through the crowd and Mr. Death had to admit to himself that he felt it, too � a stirring deep down in the black pit of his soul. Max Davies was an inspiration, even to those who should have been his mortal enemy.

He wondered if that was why The Peregrine was still alive, that there was something innately different about him and his fellow survivors. Were Lazarus Gray, Gravedigger and The Peregrine cut from a different cloth, even from other vigilantes?

The world would be a darker place when they were gone.

Silence fell once more as The F�ehrer rose from his seat. He opened his mouth and everyone, including Mr. Death, leaned forward, eager to hear what he would say before condemning the masked man to death.

What those words would have been, no one would ever get the chance to know.

Mr. Death would later believe that he had heard the crossbow bolt whistling through the air in the seconds before it pierced Hitler�s throat. Whether or not that was true, the fact was that one of the most evil men in history was struck down before the eyes of hundreds of people. Blood spurted from the wound, splashing straight onto Himmler�s shocked face, and screams immediately rang out into the night.

The one responsible for Hitler�s death made her presence known quickly enough. Gravedigger jumped from the shadows, her blade flashing in the floodlights as it delivered more death. Soldiers died quickly, the victims of not only her consummate skill but the terrible rage that made her movements all the more impassioned.

Mr. Death sprang to his feet and looked towards The Peregrine. If Gravedigger were here, could Lazarus Gray be far behind?

As if on cue, the broad-shouldered figure of Gray burst onto the wooden platform, knocking aside the guards who had been watching over The Peregrine.

�Do something!� hissed The Mother of Pus. She was glaring at him with a fury that spurred him to action.

�Yes, mother,� he murmured, hoping that she didn�t sense his glee.

He jumped towards Lazarus Gray and The Peregrine, his cloak billowing out behind him. When he landed, he approached cautiously and shouted, �You realize you can�t escape, don�t you? You�re so vastly outnumbered that it�s a miracle you�re not both dead already.�

Lazarus smiled grimly. �I think you�re underestimating how resourceful we can be.�

At just that moment, several nearby buildings, all of which had been retrofitted into Nazi government usage, suddenly exploded. Lazarus and Gravedigger had been hoarding as many homemade explosives as possible, knowing that at some point they would be needed. All during the day they had hidden them near this area, priming them for just the right time.

Debris rained down through the air and the screams grew louder, as panicked spectators began rushing from the scene. In the skies above, horrible bat-winged creatures began to fly into view, summoned from their perches several blocks away.

Lazarus grabbed The Peregrine and led him down a nearby alleyway, hoping that Mr. Death would be too distracted by the explosions to notice which direction they went. �We need to find a way out of here.�

The Peregrine looked at him in surprise. �You didn�t plan an escape route? That�s a pretty essential part of these things!�

�We were more focused on surviving long enough to get you out of there alive.�

�What about Charity?�

�She can handle herself,� Lazarus said, jerking back as he reached the intersection of the alley and the next street. A black sedan roared around and the corner, squealing to a stop in front of them. The driver jumped out, leaving the door open and the engine running.

Lazarus let out a gasp. �You�re alive?�

The Darkling drew his pistols, brandishing one in each hand. �Get down.�

Neither The Peregrine nor Lazarus asked why. They hit the ground, allowing The Darkling to pull the triggers on his automatics. Lazarus glanced behind him, seeing several pursuing SS soldiers felled by the volley.

Mr. Death appeared then, a gleeful cackle emanating from behind his skull-like visage.

�Go,� The Darkling said, moving past the now rising heroes. �I will hold him off while you escape.

�Come with us,� The Peregrine whispered.

�I don�t fear death, my friends. I�ve seen it up close too many times for it to hold any mystery for me.�

Mr. Death, hearing this, touched his chest and stopped. �Death holds no mystery? You wound me! I have some stories that will put a blush on those cheeks! And I do have to say, I love your tailor!�

The Darkling sprinted forward, launching himself in the air. He tumbled head over foot, firing as he did so, and landed as smoothly as an Olympic gymnast. His shots would have killed any normal man but his foe today was nothing like his usual foes.

Mr. Death tumbled down the alleyway, dodging each of the bullets by mere inches. He sprang up just as The Darkling landed and the two men were suddenly face-to-face, their skull faces so close that each could smell the breath of the other.

The Darkling struck first, striking Mr. Death across the chin with the butt of a pistol. If Mr. Death felt woozy after taking such a powerful blow, he didn�t show it. Instead, he reached out with both hands, seizing The Darkling�s head in a powerful grip. He began to dig both thumbs into the hero�s eye sockets and only a quick knee to the midsection stopped Mr. Death from permanently blinding his enemy.

�Let�s go,� The Peregrine said, pulling away from Lazarus and diving behind the wheel of the waiting car.

�I thought you were all about going back for our lost comrades,� Lazarus pointed out, moving into the passenger seat.

�Like you said, they can take of themselves. Besides, if I�m honest with you, none of this is going to matter anyway. Not if I play my cards right. And we have Mr. Death to thank for it!�

Lazarus barked out a few directions, which The Peregrine eagerly began taking, propelling the vehicle down the road at great speed. Soon enough, the chaos was behind them and Lazarus asked, �Mind telling me what the cryptic talk is all about?�

The Peregrine reached into a pocket and pulled out an emerald glove that he tossed into the lap of his companion. �Recognize that?�

�Yes. How did you get it?�

�Believe it or not, Mr. Death gave it to me.�

�It must be a trap.�

�I don�t think so. Andre appeared to me after I got hold of it. He says there�s enough magic in it to perform one last feat of power.�

�We better make it a good one.�

The Peregrine grinned. �I�ve been thinking about that and I think I might have one hell of an idea.�

�Hy-Brasil is a phantom island which is said to lie west of Ireland. Supposedly it�s cloaked in mist, visible only one day every seven years. Even then, reaching the island is fraught with peril.�

Lazarus Gray sat across the table from The Peregrine, trying not to let his eyes wander over to the clock on the wall. They�d been back for nearly two hours and Gravedigger hadn�t returned. The official state radio was giving few details about the incident downtown, not even confirming The F�ehrer�s death.

�You�re not listening to me, are you?� The Peregrine asked.

�Sorry.�

The Peregrine stood up and moved to the battered coffee pot in the corner. He poured himself some and took a sip. �It�s okay. If I were in your position, I wouldn�t be able to concentrate. The two of you have grown pretty close, haven�t you?�

�We have.�

�Understandable.� The Peregrine took a deep breath, pushing thoughts of Evelyn out of his mind. He knew that Lazarus had lost his own bride and he knew the pain that had obviously eaten away at Gray�s soul. If he�d been in the other man�s shoes, he might have taken whatever solace was available to him, as well.

Lazarus cleared his throat and said, �Please, continue. You were talking about Hy-Brasil?�

�Yes. Back before all this madness took over our lives, I�d been looking into it because the mystical community was starting to buzz about its reappearance. Supposedly, the island exists in a place where time and space are somewhat� loose, for lack of a better term. Throughout the ages, men and women have attempted to journey there so they could use its nature for time travel.�

�You�re telling me that this island can allow for people to actually transport to another era?�

�Yes, but with limitations. A person can only access time periods that are of great personal importance to them and of a fairly recent vintage. I couldn�t go back to Hitler�s birth and kill him, for instance, but I might be able to return to something that happened a year or two ago.�

Understanding began to glimmer in Gray�s eyes. �And if you go back in time, can you change it?�

�That�s the idea. Of course, there�s always the chance that it will only create another stream of time where things were different, that this universe will continue on.� The Peregrine shook his head. �I don�t think that�s going to be the case here, though. I think the extra magic we�re getting from Catalyst�s gauntlet will be enough to help us change history.�

�Sounds like you�re grasping at straws,� Lazarus said. �But it�s the best we�ve got. So we have to find our way to this island, I take it?�

�Yes. And because things seem to have a way of falling into place � call it coincidence, destiny or divine providence � Hy-Brasil�s reappearance happens to be taking place right now. We should have just enough time to get there, use the natural flow of the island to travel back in time, and hopefully utilize the gauntlet to restore the proper reality to our lives. I have no idea if we�ll even remember all of this if we succeed.�

�I think we�d all be just as happy letting this world fade into obscurity.�

�Agreed.�

Movement from outside made both men go on alert. The Peregrine drew The Knife of Elohim and took note of the fact that it was not glowing its traditional golden. This meant that whatever lay on the other side of the door was not inherently evil.

Lazarus had noticed this as well, but he still drew his pistol as he moved to the door.

Before he could say anything, a series of knocks came and he visibly relaxed, recognizing the code. He yanked open the door and stepped back as Gravedigger staggered in. Her red, white, and black uniform was ripped and torn in dozens of places, revealing streaks of blood and rapidly-forming bruises. Still, she seemed mostly intact as she made her way to a chair and sat down with a groan.

Lazarus was quickly at her side, kneeling and placing a hand on her knee. �What happened?�

�Anarchy,� she answered with a quiet laugh. �The streets are teeming with monsters, human and otherwise. Goebbels and Himmler are trying to act in concert for the moment but it�s not working well. Both of them are being dictated to by the Mother of Pus, anyway.�

The Peregrine asked, �Do you know what happened to The Darkling? Or Mr. Death?�

�No. Should I?�

�When we left them, The Darkling was running interference for us.� The Peregrine shrugged his shoulders. �It was his choice to make but I certainly hope he was able to escape.�

�I didn�t even realize he was still alive.�

Lazarus stood up. �I think that�s the way he wanted it. Let me patch up your friends and then Max can tell you about an idea that he has.�

�If it involves running away, I might be willing to listen. Let the monsters turn on themselves for a little while and then we can make a comeback to hurt them some more.�

�This is better,� Lazarus replied. �We might be able to not only defeat them for good, but make all of this go away forever.�

Charity pushed back her hood and then peeled her mask away from her face. She was still a beautiful woman but the terrors of the last year had aged her, adding wrinkles and lines that hadn�t been there before. Though she and Lazarus didn�t talk about it much, they were both acutely aware that 1939 was a date of great importance to her. On Halloween night, The Voice would judge her, deciding if she�d done enough in her three years as Gravedigger in order to redeem her soul. Given the state of the world, it was going to be hard to argue that she�d improved things on the mortal plane. Despite that, she kept fighting the good fight not to save herself but to save others. It was that kind of steely determination that Lazarus saw now in her eyes and it filled him with respect.

She smiled wryly. �Please, tell me more.�

It hovered in the air before her, its monstrosity difficult for human words to convey. An elephantine trunk hung loosely from its face, the skin mottled and covered with open sores. Its eyes were like two dark pits of stygian darkness, lit only by tiny pinpricks of malevolent red-tinted light.

The Mother of Pus knelt before it, keeping her eyes downcast. It had said nothing since manifesting in her quarters but its distaste for her was almost palpable. At first, she had feared that it had come to dispose of her as punishment for her failures but now she knew that this was the equivalent of a psychological beat-down, with the strange entity serving dual roles of punisher and counselor. Images were flooding through her mind, showing her the fates that would await her if she continued to falter in her duties but simultaneously she experienced the euphoria of total victory, of a universe that was nothing but chaos and pain, the ultimate triumph for her kind.

�I won�t fail you again,� she whispered.

Another wave of pain washed over her, reducing her to a shivering mass in its wake. She could sense its psychic accusations and had no ready reply for them. She had surrounded herself with human liars and malcontents. She had allowed preening fools like Hitler to strut about as if he held true power and, worse yet, she had given a monstrosity like Mr. Death a place of honor in her court. Though she couldn�t prove it, she was positive that Death had played a part in The Peregrine�s escape. It had all seemed too convenient and, with Mr. Death missing now, his guilt seemed to have been confirmed.

She rose to her feet, realizing that their �conversation� was nearing its end. Still without looking at her master, she asked, �When I find The Peregrine and his friends, should I kill them? Or would you want me to turn them over to you?�

The reply was so powerful that she nearly tumbled back to the floor. It resonated inside of her skull, echoing so loudly that it seemed to be imprinted on the back of her eyelids, pulsing at her like a neon sign every time she closed her eyes:

KILL THEM.

Slowly nodding, she whispered, �And so it shall be done.�

The Sovereign City Harbor had once been part of the beating heart of the city. Criminals and lowlifes had dominated its landscape, to be sure, but it was also the quickest way to reach The Heart of Fortune, the massive floating casino that had belonged to Fortune McCall. Like so many others, McCall and his associates were now dead, their bodies lying on the ocean floor along with the splintered remains of the boat they had once called home.

Lazarus Gray found it ironic that he almost missed the not-too-distant days when this area had been home to mobsters and thieves. That was far preferable to what lay along the waters these days� horrible half-human, half-fish creatures that had been dubbed Deep Ones. Cultists who worshiped the beasts were plentiful as well, keeping the Deep Ones well-stocked in both food and female flesh. The male Deep Ones had an almost insatiable desire to breed, not only with their own females but with human.

The three heroes crouched low, hiding behind several large crates, eyeing their prize: a 1930 motor yacht with the name The Glass Throne emblazoned along the side. The unusually named boat had been the property of Theodore Groseclose, the erstwhile publisher of The Sovereign Gazette. Though rarely used, the showpiece boat was well-known in the area and Groseclose occasionally posed with it in promotional photographs.

The thin line that was Gray�s lips grew even more taut when he thought of The Dark Gentleman, Theodore�s son. Another life lost in the nightmare of this new world.

Several figures moved across the deck of The Glass Throne: cultists, dressed in crimson and black. They were on alert, frightened by the news they�d heard regarding the botched execution. All of them brandished firearms and Lazarus could tell that their trigger fingers could accurately be described as �itchy.�

�No sign of any Deep Ones,� Gravedigger whispered, her voice sounding muffled by her mask. �If all we have to deal with are cultists, this could go really smoothly.�

�Don�t get your hopes up,� The Peregrine replied. He held The Knife of Elohim in his right hand. The blade was shining with gold-colored light. �There�s plenty of evil around here. Too much for just those kooks on the deck.�

Lazarus pointed out to the dark waters. �There.�

The Peregrine spotted it then, a thick tentacle that broke the surface of the water and then slid back down into the murky depths. �A good old-fashioned Kraken?�

�Whatever it is, we�ll kill it,� Gravedigger said. She raised her wrist-mounted crossbow, a bolt sliding automatically in place from the apparatus attached to her forearm. It was an ingenious device and The Peregrine had wondered briefly if he should try and add something similar to his own arsenal. �I�m going to take out the men on deck.�

Lazarus nodded, knowing with full certainty that she would kill each of them with unerring accuracy. Indeed, the first bolt whistled through the air and landed directly in the side of her target�s skull. Even as the next bolt slid into place, she was taking aim and firing. Over the next few seconds, she fired four more times, each time leaving a body that tumbled to the deck.

All three of them bolted from their hiding places, sprinting towards the gangplank that led onto the yacht. By the time they arrived on the boat, another cultist had stepped out from the bowels of the ship. The Peregrine pointed his pistol and pulled the trigger, spraying the man�s brains into the air. The sound of the gunshot brought more men to the upper deck but they found themselves confronted by three well-trained fighters who had nothing to lose.

While Gravedigger routinely killed her foes, both Lazarus and The Peregrine usually tried to avoid this. Under these circumstances � and knowing full well that if they succeeded, all of this would be undone � the two of them were more willing to commit acts that they normally would not.

As such, Lazarus spared no hesitation in ending the lives of those he confronted.

He had just killed one of the last of the cultists when he felt something strong and heavy wrap itself around his ankle. He looked down just as he was being yanked into the air.

The Kraken had struck!

�Lazarus!� Gravedigger cried out. She leapt into the air, drawing her sword as she did so. Unfortunately, the Kraken�s tentacle was too high for her to strike and she was fearful of accidentally hitting her friend. She landed in a crouch, a string of obscenities escaping her tightly drawn lips.

The Peregrine ran to the edge of the deck and looked down as the Kraken emerged somewhat from the waters. It was drawing Lazarus down towards its beak-like mouth and The Peregrine took quick aim. His gun fired specially modified bullets of his own design. Though miniaturized so that he could fire a hundred before he needed to reload, each packed enough punch to bring down an elephant. He thought it made up for him not having thought of Gravedigger�s crossbow design.

Leaden death slammed into the Kraken and the waters quickly turned red. It didn�t have the intended effect, however, as it spurred the creature to submerge completely, dragging Lazarus kicking into the depths.

Gravedigger started to dive in after them but The Peregrine stopped her short.

�What are you doing?� she asked. �Lazarus is going to die!�

�He wouldn�t want you dying with him! None of us can do this alone and if it means sacrificing one of us so that two can continue, that�s what we have to do!�

The cold and bitter reality of The Peregrine�s words brought her up short. She looked like she might fight him on that point but she abruptly turned away, muttering, �Fine. But we have to give him a few minutes.� She entered the lower decks, adding, �I�m going to get the engine running.�

The Peregrine looked back down at the waters, which seemed quiet and still. He felt like a cad and considered abandoning his own advice to go in after Lazarus but his logic was sound and there would be no second chances when it came to their mission. If that meant making hard decisions, he was prepared to make them.

Seconds turned into minutes and the masked man�s shoulders slumped. It was time to go. He started to yell for Gravedigger when a sudden splashing below made him start. It was Lazarus, bursting out of the water, gasping for air. The Peregrine quickly tossed him a line and reeled him in, helping the soaked crime fighter to the deck.

�What the hell happened?� The Peregrine asked.

Lazarus spat out water. His arms were scratched and torn, leaving him bleeding from a dozen small wounds, but otherwise he looked intact. �The Kraken tried to eat me.�

�And?�

Lazarus held up a knife, covered in dripping gore. �He found me a little indigestible.�

The Peregrine smiled and helped Lazarus back to his feet. �Go inside and tell Charity that you�re alive. Then she can stop hating me and we can get on our way.�

Staggering somewhat, Lazarus moved away. He would enjoy the chance to recuperate on the way to Hy-Brasil. Normally such a journey would be next to impossible, given the distance and the lack of readily available fuel. In this case, however, they would be tapping into a portion of the magic in Catalyst�s gauntlet to speed them along. Since they didn�t want to use much of it � it would be needed for what they intended to do on the island, after all � the trip would still be a matter of days but that was far better than the weeks it would have taken otherwise.

The Peregrine watched his friend disappear belowdecks and for the first time in a long time, he felt hopeful that things were starting to go their way.

Hy-Brasil� and possible victory� lay in the future.

He couldn�t wait to seize it.

�It�s all falling apart,� Himmler said. His hands shook badly as he raised the glass to his lips and took a sip. The alcohol burned its way down his throat but did nothing to steady him. �And it�s all my fault. I never should have��

�Silence!� Goebbels barked. He rose from his seat in what had been The F�ehrer�s Sovereign City office and stared at the macabre figure that entered the room.

It was The Mother of Pus, a name that was growing ever more apt. The beauty that her human host had once possessed had been fading for some time but the recent events had sped this transformation along. She looked like one of those Egyptian mummies now, devoid of the cloth that normally hid their cadaverous features. Her skin, sunken to the bones, was now dotted by open sores that leaked yellowish fluid.

�Mr. Death has returned?� she asked.

Goebbels glanced at Himmler and noted with disgust that the other man was incapable of answering. Standing up straighter, he answered, �He is now like his name would suggest � dead. To his credit, he took The Darkling with him. Their corpses are currently in storage.�

Darhoth waved a hand dismissively. �Burn them both. They are of no use to anyone and even though I hunger, I wouldn�t allow darkling�s flesh to touch my lips. Disgusting figure��

Goebbels pressed on, realizing that with The F�ehrer gone, someone would have to carry on in his name and Himmler was hardly the man to do so. Eager to gain favor with Darhoth, he said, �We have reports that Lazarus Gray, The Gravedigger and The Peregrine stole a boat from the harbor. We have no idea where they might be headed but they�ve left Sovereign. I think this gives us time to restore order and made preparations to move forward. I have already drafted a radio address to begin this process. In addition, I will proclaim a worldwide period of mourning for The F�ehrer with a state funeral to follow in Berlin in one week�s time.�

�Let the carrion pick the flesh from his bones.�

Goebbels reacted as if he�d been slapped in the face. �Excuse me?�

�Your pitiful excuse for a leader! Throw his body outside so that the elements may do what they will with him.� Darhoth seethed now, her eyes boring into Goebbels�. �There will be no more coddling of your Nazi filth. You are slaves and that is the best you can hope for. Do as I command or you will join your master in death.�

Though he had never been the bravest of men, there was one aspect of Goebbels� character that should never have been cast into doubt: his unswerving loyalty to Adolph Hitler. He pulled himself up to his full height and replied, �Absolutely not.�

Darhoth paused, obviously surprised by this act of disobedience.

Himmler, sensing that things were about to take a horrific turn, slid towards the door, easing out of it. He was ready to flee now, hoping against hope that he would find some means of survival outside of Sovereign City.

Meanwhile, Goebbels had reached down to the pistol he wore on his hip, drawing it forth with a shaking hand. He was thinking of his wife, Magda, and the children they both loved � Harald, Helga, Hildegard, Helmut, Holdine, Hedwig and Heidrun. They were such good children, even the most willful of them. He would be a good Nazi for them to the end, even if they could not be there to witness his act of heroism.

He pointed the pistol at Darhoth�s face and pulled the trigger. The bullets ripped through flesh and bone, reducing her already putrefying features to pure gore. Her body swayed before tumbling to the floor.

Goebbels lowered his pistol, staring down at the mess and feeling strangely exhilarated. He had done it! He had killed the horrible harpy and, possibly, freed his people. Of course, Darhoth was only one of many monsters in this world but if they could be killed so easily, perhaps it had been nothing more than fear that had prevented humanity from discovering this already.

He turned his head, about to call for guards. They would dispose of this creature�s body and then start subtly rounding up her other followers that were about the Nazi headquarters. Once they had been dealt with, plans could be made for the larger monsters that lay outside the walls.

A strange sound gave him pause, however, and he turned to once more gaze upon Darhoth�s remains. Something strange was happening. Thick fluid resembling phlegm was oozing from all of the woman�s orifices. Goebbels gasped in horror as the fluid slid away from the body and began to rise, taking on a humanoid shape composed of blood, snot, saliva and other liquids.

An inhuman voice rose from the mixture. �Before, I was weak enough that I required a host to manifest in this world. That is no longer the case.�

�No,� the Nazi whispered, his eyes growing wide with terror.

�Did you think I would be so easily destroyed?� Darhoth asked.

Her right arm shot forth, elongating until it wrapped around the neck of the Third Reich�s propaganda minister. The lips which had produced so many lies were now reduced to babbling incoherently as the man reached up to vainly try and extricate himself from the superhumanly strong grip. His eyes bulged and his face turned blue before he succumbed to the inevitable.

Darhoth withdrew her limb, which returned to its original size. She could sense something in her mind � a word, sent to her by the Followers of the Bloody Goat, a scrying guild that served the Elder Gods. She had ordered them to find her missing prey, the vigilantes who had ruined her carefully sculpted plans. Obviously, they had found something� a location.

Hy-Brasil!

�That doesn�t look very hospitable.�

The Peregrine cracked a grin. Charity Grace was capable of understating the obvious like no woman he�d ever met before.

The three heroes stood on the deck of The Glass Throne, having just navigated through a rocky ring that surrounded Hy-Brasil. It had been treacherous going and, if not for the steady hand of the men commanding the vessel, they would have ended up in a watery grave.

A thick cloud of fog covered the island, making it nearly impossible to see what lay past the beach. They saw tall trees and a dense jungle, as well as a mountain that rose above the fog, but beyond that, it was utterly still and silent. They heard no birds, saw nothing moving on the beach or in the trees. Even the water seemed devoid of life.

�Where did this place come from?� Gravedigger asked.

�The old legends don�t say but if I had to hazard a guess, it�s someplace that became unstuck in time. It floats in and out of phase with the rest of the world.� The Peregrine pointed towards a set of trees that were now rustling. Through the fog, they saw something emerge onto the beach, an impossibility that made all of them stand and gawk. They were looking at some sort of large armored lizard � what the scientists termed a dinosaur.

�It�s a stegosaurus,� Lazarus Gray whispered. When he saw Gravedigger glance in his direction, he added, �A man named Marsh named it after discovering some bones in 1877. Originally, he thought the creature was some sort of aquatic turtle-like beast but after more complete skeletons were found, his view of the creatures was revised. The scientific community believes they walked the earth some 150 million years ago.�

The Peregrine shook his head. �Astonishing.�

�I wonder if we�ll retain our memories of all this when we change history,� Lazarus said. �If we do, the knowledge of this place might be put to good use. I think it�s too dangerous to leave unchecked. Perhaps there would be some way to block it off from those who would pervert its power.�

Gravedigger laughed coldly. �You�re getting ahead of yourself. We haven�t changed anything yet. And personally, I don�t want to remember all of this.� She exchanged a meaningful glance at Lazarus. �Even if I lost the memories of a few good things, I�d accept that to get back the life I used to have. For all its flaws, it was better than this world.�

Lazarus nodded. �Ultimately, I�d agree with that assessment.�

The Peregrine looked away. Those two were such odd people � both so unemotional at times, though he knew that they had passions that bubbled just beneath the surface. For his part, he didn�t care if he remembered this world or not. He just wanted to get back home to Evelyn and the life they were building in Atlanta. He wanted to see his housekeeper, Nettie, again and have a few drinks with his buddy Will McKenzie. Hell, he�d even be fine going back to facing criminal masterminds like the Warlike Manchu or Jacob Trench.

Anything would be better than a world ruled by Nazis and demons.

�Let�s get this over with,� he said.

Gravedigger�s legs ached by the time they stopped to set up camp for the night. Max had been insistent that they would know when to perform the magic ritual by the area in which they found themselves and, to this point, he was satisfied that they had reached the proper location.

Though they had traveled less than three miles from the beach, it had taken them long hours to do so. The vegetation was so dense that every step forward was an effort. The trio had mostly walked in silence, keeping their eyes and ears attuned to the noises around them. Several times they�d heard rustling in the leaves but they had seen nothing. There were definite signs that this island existed outside the normal flow of time, however: massive footprints that belonged to no modern beast; a vine-covered single-person aircraft made of some unknown, ultra-lightweight material; a set of encyclopedias dated 1954; and a piece of Roman Empire-era armor.

They finally decided to stop for the night on a hill that overlooked the dense jungle through which they had passed. Without discussing it, each fell into certain roles. Lazarus built a fire and got it going, while Charity disappeared into the jungle to find food. Max set about finding them some form of cover in case of rain. The stars were bright in the sky, though the constellations looked off somehow. He wondered if they were still in the same location that they were they had made landfall.

�So, what are we looking for?� Lazarus asked, sitting back and tossing a few sticks into the roaring fire he�d made.

Max glanced over and gave a crooked smile. �I�ll know it when I see it. I�ve been around enough magic to get a sense for it and this island is covered by it. But I want to find the right spot before we try to cross back into the past. If we screw this up, we�re done for. The entire world is done for.�

Lazarus said nothing in reply but his mind never ceased working. He wasn�t 100�% sure where they would go when they opened the portal into the past. There was apparently a limit as to how far back they could go and still make changes. If that was so, he knew the day that seemed most appropriate and he had said as much to the others. He knew that they wondered if it wasn�t some sort of guilt on his part that he suggested it but it also made logical sense and, in the end, they had agreed to try that time period if they couldn�t go further back.

Lazarus wanted to return to the moment when Darhoth had appeared before him in Washington. That was when she�d revealed her full plan and unleashed the Elder Gods. But what if he hadn�t been alone? What if The Peregrine and Gravedigger had been there to strike her down before she could finish the summoning ritual? She�d wanted an audience, that much had been certain, so Lazarus was sure that she hadn�t completed the spell until the final moment, to be sure that he would bear witness to her victory. There would still be time to disrupt it.

Gravedigger returned, carrying the carcass of some sort of unusual rabbit. It was easily twice the size of the most common breeds, with slightly odd facial features, as well. Obviously, it was from some other time, like so much else on this island.

�Anyone hungry?� Charity asked, holding the beast high.

�I�m starving,� Max replied. �And if it�s our last meal in this hell, then all the better!�

Night fell� and with it came danger.

The Peregrine had taken first watch, allowing his companions to fall into what he could tell was much-needed slumber. He reached up and scratched the stubble that lined his chin, wishing that he were back home in Atlanta. A nice, long soak in the tub followed by breakfast with his wife. That would be the perfect tonic for all the recent craziness.

Someday soon, I�m going to get that world back, he silently swore.

Max jumped as he heard the sound of a twig snapping nearby. He peered into the dark gloom of the jungle, thinking that he saw the shifting of shadowy figures, but he wasn�t certain that it wasn�t his mind playing tricks on him.

He drew out The Knife of Elohim, noting that while it glowed softly, it was not bright enough for him to fear anything supernatural. The background �field� of magic that permeated the world in its current state meant that The Knife never stopped glowing completely anymore. If there was danger in these jungles, it was of a natural kind � either men or beast.

The movement he had detected seemed to have ceased and he turned towards the others. To his surprise, he came face to face with a dark-skinned man whose body was covered with black powder. The man drove the hilt of a spear directly into Max�s jaw, knocking him to the ground. Before the hero could respond, a second blow sent him spiraling into unconsciousness.

Seven more men crept from the shadows, moving into the camp with the silence of well-trained hunters. The natives had watched the three visitors for over an hour, their gaze held firmly by one member of the party in particular.

As one, the men crowded around the sleeping form of Charity Grace. She was dressed in her Gravedigger uniform but her mask was stuffed into her belt and her hood was pulled back, revealing her lovely face and dark hair.

One of the natives extended a hand, as if to caress her pale skin, but one of the older men slapped his hand away. This elder withdrew a small bag sealed with leather straps, which he pulled undone with quick, practiced movements. Silvery powder spilled out and this was blown with pursed lips into Charity�s face. A moment later, the act was repeated with both Lazarus and Max. All three of the heroes twitched in their sleep as they inhaled the powder but none opened their eyes, instead falling into an even deeper slumber.

With their prey now properly drugged, the men gripped them by their arms and feet. Soon, the campsite was abandoned, leaving behind few signs that anyone had ever been there at all.

Charity Grace woke up in another world.

She recognized it at once, for she had been here before. The soft white glow that permeated everything made her wince but the soft burbling of an oversized fountain set her at ease. She was in a large, circular room with windows on all sides, revealing a peaceful, green-grassed field.

This was the domain of The Voice, the strange entity that had resurrected her.

Your time grows short, The Voice said. It came from everywhere and nowhere, sounding both male and female.

�I�m working on it,� she replied. Looking down at herself, she was surprised to find that she was naked. Was this supposed to symbolize that her period as The Gravedigger would be coming to an end? That she was standing nude and vulnerable before her judgment?

Whatever the reason for it, Charity didn�t like it. Still, she got the feeling that trying to cover her body was pointless � besides, it wasn�t like The Voice was looking at her in a prurient manner.

I speak not of your trials as Gravedigger. I come to warn you that your enemies are in pursuit� They will seek to stop the plan upon which you and your companions have embarked.

Charity paused, blinking in surprise. �Thank you for the warning. You� don�t usually do that.�

The world is in peril. The souls of all humanity are at risk. The Gravedigger�s role is meant to be a small one, bringing justice and light to the dark places, one person at a time. But this situation is beyond that. This could well mark the end of humanity.

Charity took a deep breath. She knew all of this but hearing it spoken in that weirdly unemotional voice still made it all the more powerful. �I�ll fight until my dying breath,� she said. �Not because I�m trying to redeem my own soul and not for vengeance for my fallen friends. I�m going to do this because there�s right and there�s wrong, and what�s going on right now is all kinds of wrong.�

Then do what must be done.

�Are we on the right path? Can you tell me that much?�

You must undo what has been done. You must help slay the Beast. This evil has been slumbering for many long years and even a victory today will not prevent its eventual return. There are some battles that must be fought again and again.

�Wait � so you�re saying that Darhoth will just come back? Even if we win?�

It may not be her. Evil wears many faces, many guises. The Elder Gods have many adherents who will try to revive them. Fear not for the future. Fear for today.

Charity frowned, many questions still dancing through her head. Before she could give them voice, she felt her body begin to sway as her mind was cast out of this place and returned to the mortal world.

Much to her chagrin, she was still naked when she woke up for real.

She sat up quickly, seeing that she was in a thatched hut of some kind, laid out on a blanket of animal fur. Glancing about for her clothing and weapons, she saw that they were not nearby.

Her brain was fuzzy, as if she had been drugged. But how? And by whom? Just as importantly, where were Lazarus and Max?

Ignoring her nakedness, she crept to the closed door, which was forged of rope and bamboo. She peered out, taking in the village full of natives. Some of them were as naked as she was but most were dressed in loincloths or wrap skirts, their upper bodies left bare. Many of the men�s bodies were dusted in white or black powder.

The village was at the base of a massive wall that spread out to the west and the east, disappearing into the jungles. It was easily thirty feet high, built of bamboo and thick ropes.

From her vantage point, she estimated at least several hundred people lived here and many of those she saw were armed warriors. Though she was an expert in unarmed combat, she was not anxious to test her mettle against these men with no weapons of her own.

A quick self-examination showed no sign of physical assault, which made her feel a bit better about her situation. Still, her clothes were gone which implied some sort of sexual bent to her capture.

As she was finishing her inspection, a rear entrance to her hut unexpectedly opened and a young black woman stepped inside. Charity immediately turned to face the newcomer, dropping into a fighting stance as she did so.

The native woman smiled broadly and Charity found herself instinctively relaxing. There was intelligence and warmth in the woman�s gaze but nothing that appeared threatening.

�There�s no need for that,� the woman said in perfectly unaccented English. �You�re an honored guest.� The woman held up a small bundle of clothing, which Charity immediately recognized as her underclothes and her Gravedigger uniform. The woman set the clothing on a small wooden chair and added, �My name is Minerva.�

Charity moved quickly to pick up her clothing. While getting dressed she asked, �Where are my friends, Minerva? And my weapons.�

�Both are fine, I assure you. Lazarus and Max haven�t woken up yet but they will soon. The Morpheus Powder should leave you feeling quite refreshed.�

Charity paused, realizing that she did feel good� really, really good. In fact, she felt stronger than she had in many months. �Why did you kidnap us?�

�Because you wouldn�t have taken the Powder willingly. You would have rightfully distrusted us and that would have delayed things. This way, you�ll be fully recovered before you make your trip.�

As Charity pulled her mask on, completely her transformation into Gravedigger, she asked, �Are you telling me that you know why we�re here?�

�Of course we do. We are, like yourself, servants of The Voice.�

�You�re kidding me��

�No. This island, with its ability to allow travel between all eras and places, also connects to the realm of The Voice.�

�And what do you do for him? I�m the only female Gravedigger so you couldn�t have done what I do.�

�We guard the portals and welcome newcomers, mostly. Some of us were born here but others arrived from other times and places. I come from the year 1994.�

�Do they walk around topless in the future?�

�In some places,� Minerva replied with a laugh. �But not generally. I�ve gone native, I guess you could say. The original inhabitants of the island dressed this way and had their own traditions. Most of us who have joined them later on have adapted to them. If it makes you uncomfortable, I can put on a blouse.�

Charity shrugged her shoulders. Ultimately, all she cared about was getting her weapons and her friends back. The other woman�s nudity was hardly her primary concern. �We thought this island was going to be dangerous.�

�It is. Most people who do what you did � approach the island seeking to use its power � end up in the belly of a dinosaur. Or worse. Often, we just watch them, staying out of sight until they�re dead or gone. But you� We recognized your garb.�

�Can�t say I appreciate your methods of introduction but I guess I understand your reasoning. You probably would have been okay if you�d just announced yourselves and stepped out of the jungle, though. We�re not that bloodthirsty.�

�From what I understand, not all Gravediggers are as quick to give strangers the benefit of the doubt.� Minerva gestured towards the door. �Come with me and we�ll awaken your friends. We don�t have much time.�

�What do you mean?�

�The Voice has spoken to one of the village elders, warning them that your enemies are en route. We will attempt to slow them down so that you may do what you came here for.� She lowered her voice and asked, �Is it really that terrible out there? We drift in and out of this reality so we only get bits and pieces of what�s going on in the rest of the world.�

�Whatever you�ve heard, it�s not nearly terrible enough.�

�Then I pray that you�ll be successful.�

Darhoth, now existing as a living shadow-wraith, hovered over the deck of the Nazi U-Boat as it approached Hy-Brasil. She was accompanied by both German soldiers and Deep Ones, all of whom regarded each other with suspicion and disdain.

Darhoth had been unable to locate Mr. Death and with Vulthar dead, she would have to save her masters� plans on her own, with only this cannon fodder to help.

She waved a wispy hand through the air and she felt a pang of regret for the loss of her human shell. She�d gotten used to the sensual pleasures of the flesh and quite missed them. Perhaps when all was said and done, she�d find some ripe young female and take her body�.

Something akin to a mystical �scent� reached her senses, drawing a close to her reverie. They were here � all three of her enemies. Strangely, she sensed something more as well, the kind of magic that she would have associated with The Catalyst. He was dead, however, killed by Vulthar. Surely a new Catalyst could not have been chosen so quickly?

Turning to her troops, she commanded them to make haste. Even with her stern order, it still took time to navigate the rocky waters. By the time they had made landfall, it was mid-afternoon and Darhoth was growing increasingly concerned that she might fail to reach them in time to stop their plan.

She had no sooner sniffed out her prey�s general direction � up into the depths of the jungle � than a barrage of arrows and rocks began to rain down upon the villains. Darhoth hissed, knowing that this could slow her down even more. These were not her enemies, their scent was too far away for that, and she had no time to spare.

�Deal with them,� she said to a nearby soldier. The man nodded briskly and began shouting orders to his men. The Deep Ones operated under their own command, lumbering into the jungles with great haste and a dark hunger.

While this was going on, Darhoth allowed her form to dissipate into mist. She floated nearly unseen into the trees, bypassing the natives. She would have liked to have remained there for a bit and make them suffer but time was of the essence.

I�m coming for you, she silently swore. And this will all end today.

�This is weird, even for me.� The Peregrine looked around at the natives, who sat and stood in a circle around the three heroes. Max held Catalyst�s glove in his hand, trying to ignore the mystic energy that swirled around it. �All of these people serve The Voice?�

Gravedigger nodded. �That�s what they tell me.�

Max looked at her, his eyes narrowed behind his bird-like mask. �Do you think The Voice is God?�

�The one from the Bible? I don�t know. The Old Testament version, maybe. I was never very religious growing up but after seeing things like Darhoth and being brought back from the dead, I�ve revised my feelings about the supernatural.� Gravedigger glanced over at Minerva, who was approaching with a grim look on her face. �But if you�re asking me if I think The Voice created the world in seven days, no. Not really. I think The Voice is ancient, powerful and not very much like us. But I don�t think it created humanity.�

�I�m just glad we had time to do a bit of planning and preparation,� Lazarus said.

�I hope it�s enough.� Gravedigger took a deep breath. �If we fail��

�We won�t,� Peregrine replied. �All three of us have done the impossible again and again. The biggest mistake Darhoth and her ilk made was in not killing us when they had the chance. The Mother of Pus should have slain Lazarus that day it all went to hell. They should have dealt with me when I was captured. Separately, we�re all capable of doing damage to them but together��

�We�re something special,� Gravedigger finished for him. �I�d agree with that. I don�t always agree with the methods you two use or the ideals you espouse but I want you both to know that the one good thing to come out of all this is the amount of respect I�ve gained for you. If we win and we remember all of this, I�m going to be there for you, whenever and wherever you need me.�

Peregrine held out a hand and Lazarus placed his atop it. Gravedigger completed the symbolic act.

�I think the same goes for us, too.� The Peregrine smiled. �Too bad I live way down in Atlanta. We could make this team a permanent gig.�

�Let�s not get carried away,� Lazarus said and Gravedigger laughed. It felt like the first time in a very long time that she�d laughed in anything other than gallows� humor.

Minerva interrupted their conversation, having approached as they clasped hands. She looked apologetic but determined. �Forgive me, but your enemies have arrived. Tribesmen are trying to delay them but I don�t know how long you have.�

Lazarus said, �You told us to wait for the right moment to use the glove�s magic. If we do it now, will it work?�

The dark-skinned woman raised the delicate fingers of her right hand and traced them through the air. To Lazarus� amazement, he saw ripples follow in her hand�s wake, as if she were disturbing the surface of water. �The walls have grown very thin. You should be able to manipulate the time stream, perhaps not as much as you�d like but we don�t have time to wait.�

The Peregrine slipped the gauntlet into his hand and reached out to clasp Gravedigger�s. She, in turn, took hold of Lazarus�.

As soon as all three of them were in contact, something seemed to change in the atmosphere of the island. The ripples that they had seen around Minerva�s hand were now large waves that reminded Max of the way heat would ripple above the asphalt on a hot summer day. A rift appeared before them, showing confusing scenes that flickered quickly, moving from one scenario to the next. One by one, they all realized that they were seeing elements of each other�s past: Charity�s rough-and-tumble life on the streets, the night she died and was reborn, the first tentative steps in her romance with Mitchell; Max�s witnessing of his father�s murder and the slowing awareness that he was changed by the event, followed by his first meeting with Evelyn; Lazarus saw his graduation and subsequent recruitment into The Illuminati, the betrayal that led to the end of his life as Richard Winthrop and his rebirth as Lazarus Gray, finally seeing himself standing alongside the rest of Assistance Unlimited.

Then the images shifted, centering on one particular moment in time: when Darhoth had confronted Lazarus and told him that it was too late. They saw her completing the last components of the spell that fully released her brethren back into the world.

�That�s it,� The Peregrine said. He held Catalyst�s glove aloft. �Everyone focus on that single moment in time!�

Just as the heroes began to put their combined mental energy into that goal, Darhoth emerged from the jungle. Her smoky form saw what was happening and immediately converged upon them. She howled like a banshee, her acidic touch burning the natives who rose to stand like a barricade around the trio of vigilantes.

Gravedigger turned her head and saw Darhoth rushing towards them but the image faded. The heroes were gone, thrust back through time to the one moment when history could be altered.

In their wake, Darhoth howled in defeat. There was nothing left for her to do except hope that her past self could once again triumph. If that happened, then this world would still be left unchanged. But if the heroes somehow vanquished the Darhoth of one year ago, then this glorious world, full of so many delicious torments for humanity�

Would be gone forever.

Eun frowned. �I like looking at Li but I don�t trust her. She�s only pretending to be working with us and I don�t think we should have let Gravedigger into our base.�

�She�s Samantha�s sister.�

�Half-sister.�

Lazarus fixed his steely gaze upon his friend. �It�s important to her that we try to repair our relations with Charity. I don�t like their methods but I feel we owe that to her.�

Eun grinned. �And to think that people say you�re an unfeeling beast.�

�Who says that?� Lazarus asked, arching one eyebrow.

�Just kidding,� Eun hastily replied. He was about to quickly change the subject when a bright glow illuminated the entire street, causing a passing car to veer off the road as its driver was suddenly blinded. The vehicle slammed into a cigar stand, sending several passing innocents flying to the ground in bloody heaps.

Eun and Lazarus both raised their arms, trying to protect their eyes from the glare. They saw a female shape in the midst of the glow emanating from just a few feet in front of their parked car.

The doorman of the hotel approached, muttering under his breath, and Lazarus cried out as the woman raised her right hand and let loose some sort of powerful magical blast that eradicated all trace of the poor man.

Eun turned towards Lazarus, giving his leader a moment to tell him what he should do but what he saw was almost more shocking than the sudden attack. Lazarus was shaking his head, as if to free of it from cobwebs and standing at his side were two people who shouldn�t have been there at all. Gravedigger and The Peregrine both stared up at Darhoth, the so-called Mother of Pus, and they drew their weapons with obvious relish.

Eun saw The Peregrine toss something to the ground � was it Catalyst�s glove? �What�s happening?� he asked.

�Focus on making sure that passersby are safe,� Lazarus ordered. �We�ll deal with Darhoth.�

Eun did as he was told, pulling the nearest people aside and shoving them towards the inside of the hotel.

Darhoth, meanwhile, regarded the heroes with disdain. �It�s over for you,� Darhoth mumbled, the light surrounding her beginning to fade. �I kept my true plans away from everyone, even my closest advisors.� She looked lovely and terrible, all at once. A crooked smile touched her full lips, as if she were still learning how to manipulate human expressions. �People revere you as if you were gods but this is your twilight. This is the day that you bow down before your betters.�

Lazarus smiled grimly. Darhoth was repeating herself, saying the same things that she had before. That meant that she was still in the final stages of her spell, too, which confirmed that history could now be changed. �We can�t let her have even a moment,� he told the others. �One way or another, she has to be stopped.�

Neither Gravedigger nor The Peregrine questioned the fact that Lazarus took charge in situations like this. The Peregrine tended to operate alone and Gravedigger�s group of allies functioned quite differently than the well-oiled operation that was Assistance Unlimited. It simply made sense to defer the role of leader to the man with the most experience. In this case, his commands were sparse because they had plotted this out extensively ahead of time. They hadn�t been positive when they would emerge into the past but they had all been certain that the final battle would pit them against The Mother of Pus, so they had worked out who would do what and when.

Gravedigger started the onslaught by launching several of her mini-crossbow darts. The barbed weapons slammed into Darhoth�s human form and embedded themselves in her shoulder and chest. The monster howled in agony, responding with a powerful eldritch blast that would have killed Charity had she not thrown herself out of the way at the last moment.

The city streets were in turmoil as The Peregrine retrieved a thick climbing cable from the folds of his jacket. During their planning sessions, he�d realized that one of Darhoth�s strengths was her ability to levitate, putting her out of range of many of their attacks. While all three had the capability of responding with guns or crossbow, they needed a way to bring her down into closer range if they truly wanted to disrupt her spell.

As such, The Peregrine had fashioned the equivalent of a cowboy�s lasso. He took aim and let it fly, grinning as the loop fell around her left arm and shoulder. He quickly tied the other end of the cable to a nearby fire hydrant and he was pleased to see that Darhoth was already discomfited by the restraint.

�You�re fools, all of you!� Darhoth bellowed. �This won�t hold me more than a few seconds!� As if to prove her words, she turned her face towards the lasso and her eyes glowed brightly. Twin beams of energy shot forth and struck the cord but it held tight, refusing to be destroyed.

�Sorry, Mother,� The Peregrine said with a smile. �But we took the liberty of enchanting that particular rope.� He seized hold of it and began pulling Darhoth earthward. No matter how she struggled, she found herself unable to free herself of the mystical bond. The Mother of Pus seemed to finally recognize this fact and stopped resisting, instead proceeding to land upon the city street. Her feet touched down just a few feet away from The Peregrine and in anger, she lashed out physically, striking him with a backhanded blow that sent the masked hero flying through the air. He would have struck the side of the hotel with deadly force if Eun hadn�t thrown himself between Max and the wall. As it was, two blows hit Eun: The Peregrine�s body and the sturdy exterior of the building. The young Korean-American groaned in pain before blacking out.

Lazarus, meanwhile, had moved behind Darhoth. Even as Gravedigger approached from the front, waving her curved blade through the air and keeping the monster�s attention centered on her, Lazarus considered his options. He had a pistol holstered under his arm but would a bullet be enough to destroy her? He suspected that even without her physical body, the essence that was the immortal Mother of Pus would survive. Likewise, a blade, even an enchanted one like Max�s Knife of Elohim, would be unlikely to truly succeed.

An idea ran through him, then, one that was fraught with peril but which seemed to be the only option for truly defeating this menace. During his time with The Illuminati, he�d learned many small spells and hexes� not enough to truly make him one of the so-called magical communities but enough that he was fluent in the mystic arts and could, upon occasion, whip something up on the fly. This knowledge had been further improved upon after his battles against the likes of Princess Femi, Doctor Satan and The Three Sisters, all of whom occasionally utilized body-swapping magicks like those used by Darhoth.

�Charity! Cut her head off!� he yelled, while simultaneously throwing himself forward. His strong arms wrapped around Darhoth�s midsection, pinning her limbs against her sides. The smell of her was intense and reminded him of rotting meat, while her strength was so great that it felt like he was wrestling with a bear.

Gravedigger didn�t need to be told twice. Beheading was something of her signature move and while she wondered what Lazarus was up to, she did as he directed. Like Lazarus, she had doubts that this would do anything more than annoy Darhoth but perhaps there was something more to this than she knew.

�You pitiful fools! The plan is already in place! This world is doomed!�

The Peregrine, head still ringing, staggered towards the violent scene. He held The Knife of Elohim in his hand and the blade, which had once been dipped in the blood of Christ, was glowing so brightly that it was almost painful to behold. �I think you�re not paying enough attention to the bigger picture, Mother of Pus. You can expand your consciousness, right? Then do it. Look at your plan.�

Darhoth�s mind expanded outward and she realized what The Peregrine meant. In her confusion, she�d failed to put the finishing touches on her spell, leaving the reawakened monsters around the globe to fight against heroes who had risen up to face them. She saw Thunder Jim Wade and his crew; The Black Terror; The Darkling; a bizarre Heap; The Black Bat; Leonid Kaslov; Doc Daye; Fortune McCall; The Dark Gentleman� on and on the list could have gone. The bravery and perseverance of humanity was embodied in those men and women who refused to back down before the face of evil.

Darhoth screamed as she fought like a wild woman, eager to be freed. Her eyes opened wide as Gravedigger�s sword swept through the air, separating neck from shoulders. Blood sprayed over Lazarus but he held on tight. His lips began moving, forming arcane words from long dead languages. The spell he was recounting was similar to the one that Catalyst had used to bind The Three Sisters[7] but Lazarus had come across others in his adventuring career.

As the Mother of Pus began to exit her physical form, the black mist that comprised her soul was suddenly drawn towards Lazarus. The gaseous form was sucked into the hero through his nostrils and open mouth as the human shell that had once housed the spirit dissolved into dust.

Gravedigger took a step back in shock, suddenly realizing what he was doing. �Lazarus! You can�t hold her!�

When he spoke, his voice was an odd mix of male and female, a merging of his and The Mother of Pus. �I won�t have to for very long.� His mismatched eyes � one a dull brown, the other a glittering emerald � turned towards The Peregrine. �Use The Knife of Elohim.�

�All that will do is kill you and free her,� Gravedigger protested. In this moment, it seemed like the rest of the world had paused, leaving only these three � along with the spirit of Darhoth � to decide the fate of the future. Charity reached up and pulled back her mask, revealing her lovely face, darkened by far too much loss and pain that she had accumulated over the past few months. �Don�t do this.�

�I can hold her,� Lazarus replied through gritted teeth. �I can hold her all the way down to hell. I won�t let her escape.� He shuddered from the strain of controlling the demon within. �We don�t have time to wait.�

Gravedigger glanced at Peregrine. �We need another plan.�

Max Davies looked surprisingly calm as he said, �I figured someone would have to die. I�d just planned on it being me.�

He raised his weapon and drove it with all his might into the heart of Lazarus Gray. The enchanted weapon normally did extra damage against those of evil origin and in this case it sizzled so hotly that Max almost lost his grip on the hilt. He held on, even as his palm burned, and gave it a final twist.

Lazarus staggered back, his eyes looking skyward. He uttered one word, the name of his wife, and then he fell to the ground like a marionette whose strings had been cut.

Though neither of them could see it, Peregrine and Gravedigger knew that one final battle was still being waged. On the ethereal plane, Darhoth was roaring with anger and despair, her soul being yanked away to some dark nether realm where she would suffer eternal punishment for her failure. No matter how hard she tried to resist that pull, that tugging on her invisible leash, she could not, for the soul of Lazarus Gray was right there with her, holding her tight� all the way down into the fiery pits.

All around the globe, the harbingers of evil fell. Suddenly bereft of hope that their ultimate victory was at hand, many of them dissipated, while others were quickly slain by those champions who fought against them.

The dark veil that had recently clung to the world, draping it in increasing amounts of sorrow and evil� had just been lifted away.

Two weeks had gone by since the death of Lazarus Gray and the pain seemed only to grow with each passing day. Kelly had hoped it would be the opposite but her father had told her that after the death of her mom, it had taken him years to feel like a whole human being again. She wasn�t sure she could handle that.

The funeral had been a small affair and since then Kelly had locked herself in her room at 6196 Robeson Avenue, taking her meals in private and only speaking to her father and Samantha. Both had tried to take her mind off the fact that she�d become a widow so soon after marriage, but they�d failed, of course.

She sat in bed, hair a mess and without makeup, flipping through the journals that Lazarus had kept. Most of them were written in some sort of pseudo code that meant little to her but she liked seeing the flowing script of his handwriting and knowing that these had meant so much to him.

She�d been engrossed in one of the books that purported to deal with certain voodoo rituals of Haiti when she recognized Samantha�s familiar knock at her door. Trying to project a bit of lightness into her voice, she yelled for Samantha to come in.

The pretty blonde was dressed in slacks and a buttoned shirt. Kelly thought that Samantha always managed to look glamorous, no matter what the situation.

�How are you feeling?�

Kelly gave a half smile. �Not much better, to be honest.�

�I want you to come downstairs with me.�

Kelly hesitated. She didn�t want to be seen like this and she wasn�t ready to venture out into the real world just yet. She was about to say so when Samantha pressed on.

�Lazarus is dead, Kelly. He wouldn�t want you to waste away in here. That�s not who you are. You�re an explorer, a scientist, and the heir to all this.�

�I don�t care about his money,� Kelly whispered. She had inherited the vast majority of what Lazarus had left behind, though his aides had received ample amounts of cash and gifts, as well.

�I�m not talking about that. I�m talking about Assistance Unlimited. We�ve kept things together to this point but we need to decide where we go from here. Do we throw in the towel and say we did a good job for a few years? Is that what he would want? Is that want you want?�

�Of course not.�

�Then make yourself presentable and meet me downstairs. If you won�t do it for you� do it for him.�

They were all there, the people that Lazarus had considered as close as family. Samantha sat behind her former mentor�s desk, red nails clicking on the top of the writing area. Morgan looked dapper but serious as he set aside a copy of The Sovereign Gazette. Kelly thought it sweet that concern was so obvious in his features as he saw her. Eun, the outspoken young firebrand of the group, stood near the window, ever vigilant.

Kelly crossed her arms over her chest, feeling self-conscious. She�d put on clean clothes and brushed her hair but still felt like she looked horrible. She�d never been obsessed with her appearance but she didn�t want to look weak, either.

�I�m here,� she said. �Now what?�

Morgan gave her a warm smile. �We want to continue Assistance Unlimited. We all think Sovereign needs us. And we want to honor Lazarus.� He extended a hand towards her. �We want you to join us. Give us permission to continue using this as our headquarters.�

�Join you?�

�It doesn�t have to be on every mission,� Eun pointed out. �Just when it fits with your schedule and interests. But we think it would be good for you.�

Kelly looked down. She did enjoy the excitement and she certainly wasn�t ready to go into permanent mourning, no matter how much she ached inside. With sudden inspiration, she replied, �Of course Assistance Unlimited should continue. That only makes sense. And I�ll help out in any way that I can, but I want something from all of you.�

�Just name it,� Samantha said.

�I was reading about voodoo upstairs and we�ve all faced people like Femi, who keep coming back from the dead. If there�s any way to revive Lazarus, I want you to help me find it.�

The others looked at each other before Morgan gave a quick nod to Samantha, who answered for them. �We�ve already started looking.�

Kelly laughed quickly, a nervous sort of bark that embarrassed her but made everyone else relax. �Then let�s do this[8].�

Charity Grace had to admit to herself that she enjoyed this. Even as the goon�s nose crunched between her right fist, she was feeling more at peace than she had in weeks. After the initial weirdness of being reunited with friends that she�d mourned for and moved on from, she�d plunged headlong into her work, brutally removing pimps, drug dealers and occultists from the streets of Sovereign.

This particular foursome worked for a would-be witch named Cassandra, who had recently staked her claim to several small mobs up and down the East Coast.

She spun about, well aware that this battle was in confined quarters, making it all the more important that she stay focused. She had busted the men as they had just finished exchanging cash for opium, attacking without even a word of warning. They knew who she was. Her garb and sword were well known in the underworld.

Two of them had guns out but they hesitated, fearful about firing in such a small hotel room. This cost them as she killed one with a crossbow bolt through the eye and finished the other by ramming her sword through his belly and giving a nice, satisfying yank.

With the one with the broken nose rolling about on the ground, unable to focus, that left just one man. He held up both hands in surrender and she quickly wrestled him to the ground, tying both hands with a strong rope she carried in a pouch on her belt.

Less than five minutes after she�d arrived, she was gone, having called for the police. Normally, she would have killed them all, but she now often thought of Lazarus, who preferred non-lethal means whenever possible.

Mitchell was waiting for her down the street, the car engine still running. She slipped inside, trying to keep the blood off his seats but failing.

�How did it go?�

�About as expected. Two of them will be there for the cops to pick up, the other two are dead.�

�The two you left alive will be back on the street by tomorrow,� Mitchell pointed out. His tone carried more amusement than accusation.

�We have to give the system a chance to work.�

�Since when?�

�Since now.�

Mitchell pulled away from the curb, heading towards home. �Everybody�s noticed that you�ve been acting differently lately. Want to talk about it?�

Gravedigger paused before speaking. She�d thought long and hard about this, wondering if she should share with the others what had really happened. As far as they knew, all the weirdness and the suicides had simply stopped. In the end, though, she didn�t want to burden anyone else with the knowledge of what a world ruled by Hitler and his cronies had been like. �It�s lady things,� she said.

�What?�

�Lady things. You know� delicate stuff?� She turned to face him. �But I can tell you all about it if you want. If you�re really interested, I mean.�

Mitchell shifted uncomfortably. �Well, I don�t want to embarrass you. If you think I need to know, then��

�No, it�s really nothing that won�t pass. I�ll keep your offer in mind, though.� Beneath her mask, Charity smiled ruefully, fully aware that Mitchell wouldn�t broach the subject again anytime soon. For a man who had seen so much death, he was terribly shy about �lady things.�

They passed by Robeson Avenue and Charity looked away. You gave us a second chance, Lazarus. I�ll make sure we don�t waste it[9].

She reached out and took Mitchell�s hand, squeezing it tightly.

Mr. Death couldn�t help but find the humor in all things.

Even now, as he drove a steel pipe through the soldier�s throat, he found himself giggling with laughter. Just a few weeks before, this man was technically �on the same side.� But after Darhoth�s demise, Mr. Death had bolted and gone freelance, returning to Germany with relative ease. It was a shame what passed for security these days.

He hadn�t been banished to Hell after his poor showing in Sovereign. Well, he had ended up in one of the nether-realms but the effect hadn�t lasted long. He�d been returned to, of all places, the rooftop of 6196 Robeson Avenue. Wisely deciding that he shouldn�t remain there, he�d quickly absconded.

He�d considered freeing Nimrod from jail but decided against it. The cowboy was fun to annoy but they weren�t suited for a long-term partnership.

And so now he was living in the German countryside, killing every now and again. He had no long-term plan but at some point he thought he�d return to America and take revenge on Gravedigger. Her victory over him was embarrassing.

The OFP had been in pursuit, of course. They saw him as a weapon they could use for their own purposes but he would never be shackled to anyone else, not ever again.

He�d found this shack and thought it fairly safe but the soldier had come tromping around about ten minutes ago and when he didn�t leave, Mr. Death had struck at him, dragging him inside and killing him.

More noise from outside suddenly made the villain freeze in place. Was the soldier part of a larger force that was now closing in on him? He crept to the door and peered out, a gasp escaping his skeletal mouth.

The thing that stood there was not quite a man, though its general shape was the same. Its body was a strange mixture of vegetation and flesh, the scent being like that of freshly mown lawn. It staggered towards the shed, a strange intelligence in its eyes.

Mr. Death recognized it instantly. He�d heard the stories about the creature and its escape from captivity. �Baron Eric Von Emmelmann?�

The monster paused, as if recognizing the name. It resumed its slow march towards Mr. Death, who emerged to greet him.

�It is you, isn�t it?� Mr. Death laughed merrily. �At this point, I think you�re less of a man and more of a Heap. I think that�s what we should call you, yes? The Heap.�

The Heap said nothing, though it watched Mr. Death closely. Something had led it here, to this odd little man and, though his slow-moving thoughts could not form the words necessary to describe it, he knew that this day would be one that would alter his unique existence forever[10].

Max Davies opened the storm door and descended the wooden stairs into the room he and his wife had dubbed �The Peregrine�s Nest.� It contained his laboratory and spare equipment but even more importantly, it gave him a measure of privacy.

He�d just finished a nice meal with Evelyn, who had listened to all of his stories about the altered world with wide but believing eyes. She had learned to trust Max, no matter how crazy his stories sometimes got. In fact, she�d accompanied him on nocturnal excursions often enough that she�d seen many strange things firsthand.

Nonetheless, there was only so much that he could share with her. Some things were just so personal that it was difficult to express in words. He�d been haunted by visions of demons, Nazi-overrun countries, and the death of Lazarus Gray ever since he�d returned.

He laid The Knife of Elohim on the desk, remembering how he�d stabbed it into Lazarus. In retrospect, he�d thought of other things they could have done but in the heat of the moment, Gray�s plan had seemed to be the only thing that made sense.

The blade wasn�t glowing at the moment, which meant that no evil was nearby. Max turned away from it and set about making more of his specially modified bullets when he heard something that gave him pause. He looked over his shoulder to see that the blade was glowing softly. Even more disturbingly, he heard whispered words. At first he couldn�t make them out but then they became more distinct before fading out entirely:

It was worth it.

�Lazarus,� Max said. A smile spread across his face and he nodded in understanding. �You won�t be forgotten, my friend� I promise you that.[11]�

Barry Reese has worked for a variety of publishers, including Pro Se Productions, Marvel Comics and Moonstone. He�s written classic characters like The Avenger and The Green Hornet but he�s best known for his original creations � The Peregrine, Lazarus Gray and Gravedigger. Married to artist Cari Reese, he has one son and far too many pets. If you�re interested in finding out more about his prolific writing career, check out www.barryreese.net

See �The God of Hate� from Lazarus Gray Volume One.

As depicted in The Adventures of Lazarus Gray Volume Five.

See The Adventures of Gravedigger Volume One for more on this.

As shown in The Adventures of Gravedigger Volume 2: The Silver Skull.

�The Making of a Hero,� Lazarus Gray Volume Two.

A reference to Abigail Winters, former member of Assistance Unlimited.

See Lazarus Gray Volume 5.

The adventures of Assistance Unlimited will continue in The Adventures of Lazarus Gray Volume 6: Assistance Unlimited.

Gravedigger will continue her quest for justice in The Adventures of Gravedigger Volume 3.

The story of Mr. Death and The Heap will continue soon.

The Peregrine appears next in �Abominations� in The Adventures of The Peregrine Volume One.