The Adventures of Lazarus Gray (13 page)

"Chief? You gonna get rid
of her?"

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

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

"Those were priceless,"
Samantha reminded him. "Shouldn’t we have turned them into a museum
or something?"

"They were created by the
devil," Gray retorted. When he stood up, Samantha shrank away from
the fury in his mismatched eyes. It didn’t reach his features,
which remained unmoved, making it all the worse. "When we find
things like that, we have to destroy them. No matter the
cost."

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

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

No matter the
cost.

***

Miya Shimada sat silently
in the passenger seat while Lunt drove back to their rooms. She had
hidden out of sight during their confrontation, knowing that it
wasn’t quite time for her to confront her former lover. She had
managed to sneak a peek at him and she was reminded again of all
that she’d found so intoxicating about him in the past: his
determination, his well-formed physique and his smoldering eyes.
They were almost enough to make a corrupted woman believe in
redemption.

Almost.

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

She laughed then, startling
Lunt, who looked at her as if she were insane. She sat back in her
seat and closed her eyes, imagining the days to come. She wasn’t
sure how it would resolve itself but she knew that it was going to
be fascinating to watch.

THE END

An Adventure of Lazarus
Gray

Written by Barry Reese

Chapter I

The Lady in White

"God is dead."

Samantha Grace shifted
uncomfortably, casting a nervous glance at Morgan Watts, who sat
beside her. They were the only members of Assistance Unlimited at
headquarters, so it had been they who had been tasked with
interviewing the young woman who had come to their door, seeking
help. No one came to Assistance Unlimited unless they had exhausted
all other means of aid, for Lazarus Gray and his followers were as
feared as they were loved. This wasn’t because any member of
Assistance Unlimited cultivated an aura of fear; it was simply a
result of Sovereign City’s innate nature. The city was as corrupt
as any in the United States and even good-hearted people tended to
be distrustful of anyone who seemed to operate out of a spirit of
altruism, as Gray and his people did. When everyone seemed corrupt,
the virtuous were regarded with suspicion.

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

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

"That’s what I thought you
said," Morgan muttered. "Think you could back up and start over? So
far, what you’re saying isn’t making a whole lot of
sense."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I’ve never been one for
romance, Miss Grace. I planned to have children someday and I
wanted them to have plenty of opportunities. My husband’s family
name would have provided those in spades. Unfortunately, he died
without giving me a child. It was just like him. He wasn’t much of
a success at anything, really." Lorraine opened her purse, taking
out a cigarette. "Do you mind if I smoke?"

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

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

Samantha reached down and
smoothed out the folds of her skirt. She was aware of Morgan
watching her movements and she tried to ignore it. She was still a
bit angry over their evening out together, though most of her anger
was actually directed at herself. She shouldn’t have put herself in
that position, nor should she have laughed so hard at his jokes.
She’d encouraged him and even though he was handsome and
intelligent, they were coworkers. She couldn’t jeopardize her
position with Assistance Unlimited over a romantic fling. Clearing
her throat, she asked, "Where did he manage to acquire a
mummy?"

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

"Her?" Morgan
asked.

"Yes. Garmont told him some
cock and bull story about the mummy having once been a princess of
some sort. He insisted we call her Femi around the house. The thing
stank like old linen and formaldehyde. He was in the room with it
when he died, which wasn’t a surprise. He spent most nights in the
study with her."

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

"Exactly three days after
my husband’s death. It was the day of his funeral and I was
restless that evening so I couldn’t sleep. I wandered around our
home nursing a bottle of scotch until I ended up in the study. I
happened to glance at the time and noticed it was 11:59. I had just
sat down at his old desk when the clock struck twelve… and the
mummy began to move. I was terrified, I’ll tell you that. The
little bitch turned her head and looked right at me and I swear to
you that I wasn’t drunk enough to have imagined that. She looked
right at me and screamed. It was an awful sound, like someone was
witnessing something so horrible that they couldn’t bear it."
Lorraine’s fingers began to tremble and her cigarette dropped ash
onto her white dress. She brushed it away and licked her lips
nervously. "When the screaming was finished, it told me, ‘God is
dead.’"

"And has this happened to
you since?"

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

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

Lorraine paused, as if the
implications of that hadn’t occurred to her. "Well,
yes."

Samantha nudged her
partner. "Doesn’t mean anything. If a mummy really can come back to
life, that’s more amazing than it being able to speak
English."

Morgan had to agree with
that. They’d both seen things that defied description, which meant
you couldn’t discount anything.

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

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

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

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

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

"My husband didn’t have
anything like that. If he had, I’m sure his father would have given
me the key at the funeral."