Samantha and Morgan were both coughing, leaving Lazarus to realize that he had to act quickly. Still holding his breath, he sprang over the couch and sprinted towards Jakob.

  Eidolon holstered both guns and met Lazarus with a punch that Assistance Unlimited’s leader blocked with an arm. Lazarus followed up with a backhanded blow that went over Eidolon’s head as Jakob ducked.

  The two men then traded blows, with Lazarus scoring a hit along Eidolon’s head and Jakob catching Lazarus in the chin. The punch was enough to drive Lazarus into inhaling and immediately his lungs began to burn. A quick glance around him showed that the rest of Assistance Unlimited was out cold, leaving it to him alone to save the day.

  “Take a dive, Lazarus,” Eidolon hissed. Evidently the mask he was wearing functioned as some sort of air filter, Lazarus realized. “You can’t win this. In fact, you shouldn’t want to. I’ve seen the truth… and so did you. You died and came back. Stop fighting it and accept what we both know: that the world is going to Hell and it takes something more than hiring yourself out as a private eye to change that.”

  Lazarus felt the world growing unsteady around him but he refused to submit. “I’m trying to help people, Jakob. I helped you… no matter what lies he’s told you, you should remember that.” To punctuate his words, Lazarus slammed a right hand against Eidolon’s chest, rocking the German to his core.

  Eidolon responded by clasping both hands together and raising them over his head. He brought them down atop his former friend’s skull and then raised a foot to kick Lazarus as he was reeling.

  Dulled by the gas in the air, Lazarus nearly went to the ground. But something caught him at the last moment: a desperate burst of energy that signaled just how strong his self-control truly was.

  Lazarus roared like a lion, reaching up to claw at Eidolon’s face. He yanked away the mask, revealing the small breathing apparatus beneath. Jakob’s eyes registered his surprise.

  “Look at me,” Lazarus wheezed, staggering as the gas began to overwhelm him. “I’m your friend. Don’t fight us.”

  Eidolon relaxed, shaking his head with obvious sadness. “It doesn’t matter. I’m just a distraction for you. The Darkling left for Sovereign a while ago. He’s going to take the devil’s bones.”

  Lazarus slipped to the floor, an enigmatic smile on his face. “That’s… the worst mistake… he could possibly make.”

  Eidolon plucked up his mask and put it back into place. He wondered at what Lazarus had meant by that—the man wasn’t prone to exaggeration, which meant that The Darkling might be walking into a trap.

  All the members of Assistance Unlimited were here but that didn’t mean that they didn’t have other allies who might be waiting back at Robeson Avenue: the Dark Gentleman, The Peregrine, Doc Daye or even Fortune McCall were all possibilities.

  Still, The Darkling could take care of himself. Eidolon maintained some mixed feelings about the man—he had, after all, kidnapped Jakob and tortured him. But The Darkling had also brought about a tremendous change… one that Eidolon thought was for the better. As such, he was somewhat bound to the other man and would help him as needed—for now.

  Eidolon silently said goodbye to each of his former friends before stepping outside. He then walked around to the side of the house, where a large amount of dynamite had been stuffed under the front steps. He knelt beside the explosives and lit the fuse.

  After that, he began moving away at a brisk pace. Within three minutes, the entire house was going to be blown sky high… and Assistance Unlimited was going to be no more.

  ***

  The first to stir was Samantha. The pretty blonde sat up with a groan, holding her head as she did so. She blinked in confusion, realizing that all of her friends were still on the ground. Then she caught sight of Abby, with the spreading pool of blood beneath her. Scrambling over, she grabbed her friend’s hand and gave it a squeeze.

  “You hanging in there?” she asked.

  Abby rolled her head towards her and managed a smile. “Gas didn’t knock me out. Don’t know why.”

  “You’re probably too hardheaded,” Samantha joked. She quickly checked Abby’s wounds and added, “You’ve lost a good bit of blood but I don’t think the bullets hit anything vital. Let me wake up the others and we can get you to a hospital.”

  “Don’t have time,” Abby hissed. “Help me up.”

  “What are you talking about?” Samantha hooked Abby’s arm over her shoulder and pulled her upright.

  “Jakob left but I heard him moving around outside. He did something… we need to find out what.” Abby gestured towards the door.

  The two women made their way onto the front steps but Samantha heard the hissing of the burning fuse before laying eyes upon it. She pushed Abby against the house, apologizing for the roughness of her action.

  She spotted the fuse after a second of searching—it was no more than a few inches away from ending all their lives. She quickly tore part of her blouse and wrapped it around her hand. Then she grabbed hold of the fuse and patted it until the fire was out.

  “My god,” she whispered, looking back at Abby. “He tried to kill us.”

  “We’ve got to stop thinking of him as Jakob. He told Lazarus that he’d died and been reborn… if that’s true, it can change a person.”

  Samantha stood up, shaking her head. “He’s confused, that’s all. He’s still Jakob.”

  “I’m not sure I’d agree with that,” Lazarus said. He was standing unsteadily in the doorway of the house. His eyes were fixed on two police vehicles that were speeding to the scene, drawn by reports of gunfire. “He wants us to call him Eidolon. For now, that’s what we’ll do.”

  “You can’t mean you’re giving up on him?” Samantha asked in shock.

  “We’ll try to bring him back to the fold,” Lazarus replied but the tone of voice that he used was clear enough: Lazarus thought it very likely that Jakob Sporrenberg was lost to them forever.

  ***

  The Darkling found the front door of 6196 Robeson Avenue standing open. That would have been odd enough but as he moved through the quiet rooms of Lazarus Gray’s home, he also noted that there was a large amount of canine fur on the floor, along with holes that had been ripped into the fine carpet.

  He was well aware of the cameras that blanketed the facility and it took only a little bit of searching to find where the monitors were stored. He played back a good bit of the recorded footage and was surprised to see not only a beautiful woman dressed in Egyptian finery but what appeared to be a living, breathing werewolf.

  Worst of all, it appeared that the woman had absconded with the remains of the devil.

  Uncharacteristically, The Darkling slammed a fist onto the monitor’s table. Though a part of him enjoyed the challenge presented by Lazarus Gray, he was growing weary of constantly being opposed.

  Just before he turned away from the monitor, he caught sight of something that gave him pause. One of the monitors was still showing live footage of the front door—and The Darkling felt a smile spread across his face. The woman—along with her werewolf and what could only be described as Hollywood-style reanimated mummies—had returned.

  And in a pack slung over the back of the werewolf was what appeared to be one of the legs of the demon.

  ***

  Another set of eyes was gazing upon Femi and her strange band: eyes belonging to Kelly Emerson. Locally, she was often referred to as merely “the museum curator’s daughter,” but she was in fact much more. A graduate of Sovereign University, Kelly held doctorates in archeology and anthropology. Standing nearly six feet tall and possessed of flowing red hair, she looked like a modern Amazon, with enough curves to unsettle even the most ardent of playboys. Her glittering green eyes and full lips had warmed Gray’s heart when he’d first met her and their love affair was still recent enough that both of them found it slightly uncomfortable to be in the same room. It hadn’t lasted very long and was, in fact, best described as a fling… but the passion had burned so brightly that it had threatened to consume the both of them.

  Kelly had been asked by Lazarus to watch the building—and to take no action at all until the arrival of The Darkling. She had followed these directions exactly, though it meant doing nothing as The Silver Wolf had arrived and then departed with Femi in tow. It had meant waiting with increasing nervousness for the hours following, until The Darkling had finally appeared, just an hour or two before dawn.

  Perched on the rooftop of what had once been Gibson’s Pharmacy, Kelly lifted a pair of binoculars and peered down below. Femi was back, with a ghastly entourage in tow.

  Hurriedly, Kelly reached up to tap the communications device that was nestled in her ear. She had sent two other reports in the past few hours but had received no response from Lazarus. Depending on weather conditions, such things were not uncommon—and given the way danger seemed to follow Lazarus, it was equally likely that he was too busy to hear the messages. Still, they would be saved to his device until he cleared them. “Lazarus, please respond when you can. The situation is getting worse by the minute! Femi’s back—with that wolf-man and now some of her mummies, too. I don’t know if they’re working with The Darkling or not but I’m starting to get really frightened.”

  Kelly closed the connection and sighed. As a woman in a male-dominated field, she hated to admit weakness… but when confronted with the undead, she thought it was perfectly acceptable to be a bit weak in the knees.

  After checking to make sure that her .45 was fully loaded, Kelly leaned back over the edge of the rooftop, ready to see what happened next.

  Chapter XI

  The Grim Dance

  The Darkling knew they were waiting for him but he stepped into the foyer fearlessly, an automatic held in each hand. His arms were held away from his body, in clear view of Femi and her companions.

  The Egyptian woman faced him with a smile on her face. The werewolf loomed right behind her while the two mummies swayed aimlessly several feet away. “I used magic to find you,” she said, raising her voice imperiously. “If I had known of your plans, I would have waited for you here.” She bowed her head slightly. “I am Femi, the Undying.”

  The Darkling raised his guns. “I’d like to test that.”

  Femi laughed, unconcerned about the weapons pointed in her direction. She placed a hand on The Silver Wolf’s shoulder, holding him at bay. The werewolf had begun to growl at the sight of The Darkling, saliva dripping in long ropes from his maw. “Resist and I make you suffer. If you are lucky, I will only kill you. That would be better than becoming like them,” she said, gesturing toward her mummies. “They are just conscious enough to remember all that they have lost.”

  “What do you want?” The Darkling asked, his voice resembling a snarl.

  “The same as you, which is why I propose an alliance. I possess three of the devil’s body parts… and you have the other three. Let us unite them and share in the power together!”

  The Darkling studied her face for a moment. “What would you do with such power?”

  “I would rule,” Femi answered instantly. “I would outlaw worship of all the gods and replace their false idols with ones that recognized me. I would live forever, my beauty untainted by age. And I would make my enemies tremble with fear!” Femi’s eyes were alight with desire. “And you, my Darkling? What would you ask of the devil?”

  “I would ask him nothing save this: to help me destroy the men who threaten this world. I have seen enough of the future to know that we are standing on a pile of kindling and men like Hitler are holding the matches. If he gave me the power, I would wipe out some two hundred people—men and women that I have listed in a notebook as being the worst of humanity. I would let them burn.”

  Femi’s eyes narrowed. “You would remove your rivals so that your power would be secure?”

  “No. I’d remove them so that maybe someday people like Lazarus Gray and myself wouldn’t be needed.”

  “You are weak,” Femi sneered. “Like most of the men in this era. Too much of a coward to take what you really want!”

  “I know that the power of the devil is dangerous to wield,” The Darkling replied. “In fact, I think that it’s very likely that any human who attempted it would eventually burn up in the process. But I’m willing to take that chance.”

  “As am I.” Femi let her shoulders drop with resignation. Though she adored death and bloodshed, she had enjoyed hearing Isaam’s stories about The Darkling and. She had hoped that the man might have lived up to those tales. “Kill him,” she said, disappointment lacing her words. “Quickly.”

  The Silver Wolf bolted forward on all fours, roaring as he moved towards The Darkling. The image would have been beyond terrifying for most men: the massive man-beast with murderous eyes and snapping teeth. But The Darkling held his ground, tracking his shot so that when he pulled the trigger, the two guns spat deadly flames of pain and suffering.

  The bullets tore through flesh and fur but they seemed to only enrage the werewolf. The Darkling jumped aside, narrowly avoiding a swipe of the Silver Wolf’s claws. As the creature whirled to attack again, The Darkling fired the rest of his clips. All of the bullets truck home and blood ran in fast-moving rivulets down the monster’s body.

  Maddened by pain but unable to quit the battle—his loyalty to Femi would not allow it—the Silver Wolf slammed his body against The Darkling, lifting the vigilante off the ground and driving him hard against the side of the building.

  Pinned there, The Darkling was unable to avoid the teeth and claws that now ravaged his body. His skin was shredded as easily as his clothing but The Darkling refused to surrender. He focused past the pain, distancing himself from it. He was no longer trapped within his body but was rather a simple passenger, carried along by it. His mind was free of suffering… and with that clarity came a plan.

  Moving with the kind of relaxed grace that one wouldn’t associate with a man being mauled to death, The Darkling reached down to an inside pocket and pulled out two clips of ammunition. They were slick in his gloved hands, dripping with blood, but The Darkling was able to reload before the Silver Wolf began to go after his throat.

  Calmly, The Darkling placed both barrels against the sides of the monster’s head. He pulled the triggers, twice for each pistol, and the bullets tore deep into the Silver Wolf’s brain.

  The monster staggered back, gazing at The Darkling with a strange expression in his eyes. As his body shifted from animal back to man, the Silver Wolf seemed oddly grateful for the unexpected gift of death.

  The Darkling looked up, his body horrifically savaged and with smoke curling from each pistol. The mummies were now descending upon him, their arms outstretched.

  Dropping the guns to the ground, The Darkling drew out two knives, their blades gleaming in the light of the street lamps. He engaged the mummies, using their slow gait against them. His arms were a blur, the knives slamming hard against the toughened flesh of the undead monsters. Though the mummies felt no pain, they were nonetheless driven back by the sheer force of his attacks. The Darkling was using the knives like hammers, slamming down repeatedly until at last, the sinew began to give way and the mummies lost first an arm, then part of one’s head, then a hand.

  The Darkling finally gave a grunt of exertion and whipped both blades out from his body, decapitating the mummies. As they fell to the ground, their cloth-wrapped bodies still twitching, The Darkling finally allowed himself a moment of agony. He leaned over, letting the blood drip from his terrible wounds.

  Knowing that the battle was not yet over, The Darkling straightened, once more shutting himself off from the pain. He found that Femi was watching him with an almost sexual leer, her pink tongue darting out like a snake’s to dance across her lips. With a shocked realization, The Darkling came to the conclusion that it was the sight of his blood that was setting the woman’s libido aflame.

  “You are amazing,” she said. “What is it with this era when the men who are most my equal are also my enemies? Both you and Lazarus Gray would be fitting consorts but neither is able to truly seize power.”

  “You say you are undying?” The Darkling asked. “If so, that’s probably why your corruption runs so deep. Men like Lazarus and myself have seen behind the veil of death. Our mortality is thus reinforced—we know how precious and precarious life is, and thus we fight all the harder to protect it. But someone who has no knowledge of death as his or her constant companion can never embrace mortal existence to the fullest. You’re thus emptier than you should be—and your rage at this takes its current form.”

  Femi was visibly incensed by The Darkling’s words. “And what form is that?”

  The Darkling dropped to a crouch, tossing aside his knives and picking his guns back up. “You’re a bitch, obviously.”

  Femi screamed as The Darkling began firing, his bullets slamming into her delicate flesh. She opened her mouth wider and a plume of flame shot forth.

  The Darkling threw himself to the side, narrowly avoiding a sure death. He sprang up but slipped in his own blood, causing his next shot to go wide.

  Femi was upon him, then, attacking with a ferocity that rivaled The Silver Wolf’s. She punched, scratched and bit, all the while augmenting her blows with mystic force. The Darkling felt three ribs crack under the assault, then a tooth went flying from his mouth.

  Femi shoved him to the ground and for the first time in years, The Darkling saw absolute defeat looming in his near future. The crouching woman was now glowing with power and The Darkling could sense that she was building to one final blow, one that would eradicate him from this world.

  The Darkling drew back his left hand and formed his fingers into a fist. He sat up, channeling all that was left of his will into that one punch. He knew that it was very likely that he’d pass out afterward but he had to get in one last blow—one last attempt to defeat his foe.

 

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