person still breathing?” Max could hear the disdain in the man’s voice.
“Davies will have problems that go far beyond any attempts on his life. I’m going to destroy him without firing another shot.”
“Overconfident fool,” the other man replied. “You will waste the only opportunity the Master will ever have!”
“I am the chosen one, K’ntu… you’ve said it yourself. Now trust in me.”
Max felt the throbbing in his head and he bit down hard on his lower lip. The urge to kill, to slay evil, was almost overwhelming… what stopped him? Why not end it now? Do it , the voice inside him urged. Kill them.
“What is this place we are going to?” K’ntu asked, giving Max something to focus in on. As long as he could concentrate on the conversation in the other room, he could fight off the voices inside him.
“Kassel. It’s in west-central Germany, along the Fulda River. The Brothers Grimm lived there and it was there that they wrote most of their fairy tales.”
“Childish stories, but ones inspired by the dark deeds of truth,” K’ntu answered. “And the tomb is in this place?”
“Yes… and more importantly, the key that’s housed in the tomb. I suspect there are several such keys in the world, but this is the only one we know of… and so it’s the one we have to gain.” Max heard Trench putting ice into a glass. Soon afterwards, the sound of something being poured over the ice. “The Germans will provide us with all the papers we’ll need… and the manpower, as well. I’ve been careful not to give them any more details than are necessary. The last thing we need is for them to decide they no longer need us around.”
“The Druselturm. An odd name. Wasn’t it built long after Rosenkreuz’s death?”
“It was built in 1415… used to be a prison. But now it’s a historic ruin.” Trench sipped his drink. “But, yes… it was built after Rosenkreuz was dead. It was built on top of the tomb.”
A triumphant chuckle came from the old man. It sounded like sand paper rubbing together and made the pain in Max’s head even worse. “A prison built atop a prison, eh? Clever. And from there we shall gain the means to free our master from his own prison.”
Max felt his vision blur as Trench joined the old man in laughter. Images passed through his mind’s eye… of the dank temple with an elaborate altar, upon which lay the screaming form of Evelyn. A man with sunken flesh and empty eye sockets was clawing at Evelyn’s dress and skin, leaving long streaks of red on her pale body. Her screams were piercingly loud, the shrieks of terror that one produced when death was pressing its clammy hand directly upon your breast.
“Did you hear that?” Trench asked.
Max froze in place, the images fading. He heard the men approaching and hurried towards the door, hands shaking. Turn and fight them now! a voice urged, but he knew that he was too weak after the vision.
A shout, followed by a burst of gunfire, put fire to Max’s heels. He sped outside, a small warmth on his left shoulder telling him that the bullet fired by either Trench or K’ntu had grazed him, finding one of the few places on him not protected by his costume.
Again and again he heard Evelyn’s screams of horror echo in his head and they propelled him forward. The squeal of tires rang out through the night as a passing car swerved to avoid hitting him.
Back in the shadows across the way, the Peregrine fell to his knees. The pain in his head was awful and he retrieved a series of small capsules from his coat pocket, eagerly tossing them on to his tongue. They were a potent series of pain killers, mixed together in his own combination, that helped fight off the migraines that often accompanied his visions.
They’re going to keep getting worse. Just like way you hear me a lot louder now than you used to. The walls between the living and the dead are very thin… and growing ever more so as the day of Lucifer’s return