The Peregrine Omnibus, Volume Two (117 page)

Michael forced himself to stop. He had to get some rest. In the morning, he could go down to Robeson Avenue and make peace with them. Maybe they’d even agree to let him assist them in the case.

A smile suddenly blossomed on his lips. Michael realized he was beginning to feel like a kid hoping to fall in with the popular crowd at school. He needed to rest before he did anything reckless—more reckless than putting on a top hat and mask.

* * *

Devil Face stared in the mirror, marveling at the beauty of his visage. This was the true expression of his inner self, come to life in the form of a wooden depiction of Satan himself. The leering mouth, the jutting tongue, the crimson tint… They were everything that he so desperately wanted to be. They were far truer than the face he wore every day to the office, where he pretended to be so much less than he truly was.

It had been years since he’d moved to Sovereign City, this cesspool of immorality. The place had called to him and he’d recognized it as home. He had felt it in his blood and in the dark little corner of his mind where the Devil resided. At first, he’d tried to be good, tried to silence the voices that screamed for bloody murder… and he’d almost succeeded. But then he’d seen those whores, all made up like pretty dollies—they’d forced him to do what he’d done. He’d punished them for their sins, for using their breasts and their buttocks to tantalize and tease. Who knew how many boys they’d corrupted with their offers of love? He’d killed them and washed them, not to remove traces of his identity as the police had assumed: but to cleanse them of their filth.

Claudia had been different than the rest and she was the cause of all Devil Face’s current problems. She’d been so sweet and desirable, nothing like those tarts he’d killed in the past. Claudia was a good girl. She’d sobbed to him in the end, begging him to spare her. She claimed she was a virgin and Devil Face almost believed her—he’d wanted so badly to believe her. But he knew she’d gone to Max’s apartment and they’d done
things
… dirty things that caused butterflies to swim about in his stomach when he imagined them. This made him realize that even if she wasn’t a whore yet, she was well on her way. So he’d punished her for the sins she’d yet to commit.

And then had come the guilt, so quick that it had surprised him. He’d borrowed Max’s address book during a brief visit to the other man’s hotel room. At the time, he’d merely wanted to find out more about Davies, who had seemed to be more than he claimed to be. Davies had this way of looking at everyone, as if he could see through him or her. It was almost as if he was looking at Devil’s Face real features, which had been both exciting and infuriating.

After Claudia’s death, though, the idea of leaving the address book on her body had seemed the proper way to assuage his guilt. A part of him wanted the world to know who he really was and this dangerous game of leaving clues to his identity served his need for self-punishment.

But after her body had been discovered, the Devil had taken hold and a sense of self-preservation had emerged. Hansome knew his real identity, which meant he’d had to die. Hansome’s sexual interests had forced Devil Face to give him the same treatment he usually reserved for the whores: after all, Hansome probably would have offered his body if he’d thought it would have saved him. It was sickening, what Hansome would have done if given the chance…

Smithson was another problem. Too smart for his own good, Smithson had discovered Devil Face’s secret and actually sought to blackmail him. Devil Face didn’t think that Melvin knew the truth but he couldn’t be sure. Smithson and the old man were very close. Since Smithson wasn’t a sex fiend like Hansome or the girls, Devil Face had killed him like an animal. It was the first time he’d ever killed without using the precious ritual—the ceremonial cutting, the washing of the flesh, reducing the body to chunks of flesh.

Devil Face turned away from the mirror, reaching up to peel away his mask. He hated to look at the face he showed the world on a regular basis. It was so ugly, with every crease and line containing a litany of sins. It was only when his true face was on display that he felt truly confident.

After placing the devil mask in a box under his bed, he headed downstairs to have a drink. Killing those men hadn’t left him as ecstatic as cleansing the whores usually did. Normally he would have been humming a song to himself and feeling like he was on top of the world: instead, he felt tense and paranoid. How long before Smithson’s body was discovered? Would they find the gun he’d discarded in the trash bin outside the hotel? Could it be linked back to him? And what about Hansome? His body was still in one of Devil Face’s many safehouses but with Assistance Unlimited on the prowl, who could say that it wouldn’t be discovered?

He paused as the phone in the study began to ring. He looked up at the clock and realized that it was nearly dawn. Where had the night gone?

Walking quickly to pluck up the receiver, the killer took a moment to make sure he used the proper voice. His day-to-day voice was deeper than the one he used when wearing the Devil Face mask. “Hello?”

Theodore Groseclose sounded on edge. “You need to come over to my house. Immediately.”

“What’s wrong?” he asked, though he knew what the answer would be. How could he not?

“Smithson and Hansome… they’re both dead. Melvin’s already here and I’m about to call Max. We could all be in danger—what if the killer’s planning to kill everyone associated with Schuller?”

“Calm down,” he soothed. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and paused. His hair and beard looked unkempt and his eyes were wild. He didn’t look much like Robert Phillips at the moment: he’d have to clean himself up before he went over to Groseclose’s. “I’ll be there soon.”

Devil Face hung up the phone and reached up to smooth his hair. Had Smithson told Melvin about what he’d learned? If he had, then the old man would have to die, too… and then there was Groseclose. The man was a journalist and he might start digging on his own. If he found out that Phillips had moved to Sovereign and adopted a new identity for himself with Hansome’s help, then all the dirty secrets might come out.

Phillips hurriedly bathed and dressed in fresh clothing, creeping down the stairs to the locked basement door before leaving for Groseclose’s. He entered the finished basement, the coppery smell of blood filling his nostrils as he opened the door. Inside were 13 canisters filled with the blood of the women he’d killed over the years, dating back to before he’d come to Sovereign and adopted his current identity. He needed to kill only one more and then he’d be ready to leave this prison of flesh behind.

“Something troubles you, my love?”

The soft, purring voice of Lady Death echoed in his head. The temperature seemed to drop twenty degrees or more and his breath suddenly became visible in tiny cloudbursts that escaped his mouth. He turned to face the woman of his dreams, the only one who was pure in all things. He was the only one who could see her, the only one who heard her voice.

She was a few inches over five feet in height, her lush curves shifting beneath a hooded black robe. Her skin was a milky white that always reminded him of moonlight on water. Her ruby red lips and the lower half of her face was all that could be seen beneath the darkness of her hood but he had seen her naked beauty before. The upper half of her skull was exposed, her eyes nothing more than two deep sockets of shadow that seemed to suck him right into their depths.

“My enemies are closing in on us,” Devil Face answered, using the higher-pitched voice he normally saved for when he was masked. “I’m worried that they might stop me before I’ve accomplished my goal.”

Lady Death reached out and touched his face, her icy grip making him shiver. “I am proud of you. You have done so much in my name… and now you only have to find one more whore, one more woman who needs to have her sins washed away. And then you’ll be mine, in body and soul.”

Devil Face leaned into her hand, his face lighting up like an excited puppy’s. “I can go find another girl tonight!”

“No. You’ll know her when you see her. There are only certain ones who fit our needs.”

Lady Death pulled away, vanishing into the dark shadows of the basement. Devil Face reached after her, desperate to touch her skin once more but there was nothing there any longer.

CHAPTER V

But For the Grace of God

Max Davies woke up at six in the morning and immediately indulged in his daily ritual. He had a cup of warm tea, followed by an hour-long session of yoga and Tai chi chuan. When he was done with his exercises, he dressed in a casual suit and placed the beak-like mask of The Peregrine over the bridge of his nose. He’d spent the night in the headquarters of Assistance Unlimited, enjoying the comforts that former hotel offered. He felt a bit silly continuing to hide his identity—Lazarus knew who he was and he trusted the man implicitly. The fact that Lazarus in turn trusted his aides should have meant that Max did, as well… but it wasn’t quite that simple. The dark stares The Peregrine continued to receive from Eun were evidence that he wasn’t fully accepted by all.

The Peregrine wandered downstairs to the team’s meeting room and found that everyone else was already there. Morgan and Samantha were seated beside each other, their voices lowered to mere whispers. Morgan said something that Samantha found funny and she coyly covered her mouth as she laughed. Eun was leaning against the wall, looking as surly as ever. Lazarus himself was standing with his hands clasped behind his mask. His impassive face was pointed towards the window and the ray of sunlight that fell upon it accentuated his strong chin.

“Any breaks in the case?” The Peregrine asked, ignoring the way Eun muttered under his breath in response.

Lazarus looked towards him and gave a brief nod. “Perhaps. Groseclose is holding a private meeting at this hour with Phillips and Melvin. I understand they attempted to get in contact with Max Davies but he’s not at his hotel.”

The Peregrine paused, a smile on his lips. “I might be able to reach Max and convince him to go to this little party. It would help us to know what was going on.”

“That would be quite useful,” Lazarus admitted. “We’ll be waiting to hear back from you.”

* * *

Michael Groseclose was pulling out of the driveway just as the taxicab carrying Max Davies was coming to a stop in front of the house. Michael and Max locked eyes for a brief second before their travels carried them away from each other and Max was struck once more by how intelligent the young man seemed. They’d only met briefly at the party thrown by the elder Groseclose but Max had felt a kinship to the youth.

Max was led into the house by a taciturn butler who looked almost as harried as Max felt. He wore on his lapel a miniscule listening device that would allow Lazarus to overhear every word that was said. Max was more impressed with Assistance Unlimited at every turn. The various skills of the aides were impressive enough but combined with the various inventions and designs of their leader, they became one of the most formidable organizations on earth.

Max found Groseclose in the sitting room, seated with his head hanging between his knees. Phillips, looking like an angry bear that had been roused from his winter’s nap, was pacing in front of the fireplace. Melvin, looking older and frailer than Max could ever remember, sat pensively on a small couch, his eyes staring off into unfocused space.

Phillips stopped and stared, his mouth clamped into a thin line beneath his beard. “Davies. We were beginning to wonder if Devil Face had gotten to you.”

“Devil Face?” Max asked, allowing a smile to appear on his face. He looked over at Groseclose, who had leaned back in his chair.

“According to a statement released by Assistance Unlimited, that’s the name of the lunatic who’s committing the murders,” Groseclose said.

Max noticed that Melvin looked up sharply, his gaze shifting from Max to Phillips and back again. “You know about Smithson, don’t you?” he asked. “They say Devil Face killed him, too, but he didn’t mutilate him like he did the others.”

Max knelt in front of Melvin and took the old man’s hands. “I did hear and I’m sorry. I know he was like a son to you.”

“He was. I don’t know how I’m going to continue on without him. I’m not as young as I used to be.”

Phillips growled like the animal he resembled. “I’m surprised the police don’t have us all under protection. Two of the men whose names were on that dead girl’s body have been murdered! We’re important people, damn it!”

“Smithson’s name wasn’t in the packet,” Max pointed out, drawing another dangerous stare from Phillips.

“I imagine they’re planning to put us under protection,” Groseclose said. “But I’m not sure that’s going to be enough. Any man who could have evaded detection for as many years as this Devil Face has… I’m not sure he’s human.”

Melvin looked at him in surprise. “What do you mean?”

“Just that there are a lot of awful things in this world and not all of them can be explained by men. I haven’t run half the rumors I’ve heard about Assistance Unlimited and the kinds of jobs they take on: demons, devil-worshipping cults, women who can kill men just by looking at them.”

“Poppycock!” Phillips bellowed, though Max thought he saw a shadow of doubt pass over the big man’s face. “Sounds to me like you’ve been paying too much attention to Gray’s own rumor mongering. It’s all an attempt to stir up an air of mystery around the man so he can charge more for his services!”

Max stood up and adjusted the sleeves of his coat. “Do we have any sort of plan here? Or is this meeting simply to share our concerns?”

Melvin struggled to his feet. “I’m leaving town. I only came to finalize our plans for the project and I daresay that they’re on hold for now. I need to return home and inform Smithson’s family about what’s happened. I’m sure they’ve heard the news but I want to tell them what the papers may not have.”

“You can’t leave town,” Groseclose said sadly. “The police want us all to stay in Sovereign. We’re persons of interest in the investigation.”