Meeks flashed a smug smile. “I paid you well, didn’t I? And if anybody causes any trouble, I’ll do the same to them. Money talks in Sovereign — am I right?”
Dinkins laughed, his mood brightening. “Want me to show you where the exhibit hall is?”
“I can find my way. I’ll see you on my way out.” Meeks waited until Dinkins returned to his desk in the security office. Then he set off down the hall, moving quickly towards his destination. He would, indeed, see Dinkins before he left. He planned to kill the man and pocket the money he’d given him — there couldn’t be any loose ends that would tie him to this crime. The worst possible scenario would be for the authorities to arrest him before he had a chance to summon the Old Ones.
Meeks found the urn in a display on ancient Roman artifacts. It definitely didn’t look like an object of tremendous occult power. It was cracked in places but remained solid despite its age.
Meeks started to reach out for it when a voice brought him up short.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Shocked, Meeks turned quickly and found himself staring into the lovely face of Kelly Emerson. Though many in the city thought of Kelly Emerson as merely “the curator’s daughter,” she was in fact much more. A graduate of Sovereign University, Kelly held doctorates in archaeology 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 made her one of Sovereign City’s most sought-after figures.
To the amusement of gossip columnists everywhere, however, Emerson’s heart belonged to local hero Lazarus Gray. Their love affair had titillated the city before Gray’s career had torn them apart. Rumor had it that neither had ever truly moved on.
“Arthur Meeks,” Kelly said before he could respond. “I know you. You were here for the unveiling of the Scarab collection last month.” She strode towards him, her heels clicking on the floor. “Start talking before I call the police!”
“Dinkins let me in….”
“And he’s going to get fired,” Emerson replied. “Make it quick.”
Meeks seethed internally. He’d planned to get away with only killing one unimportant security guard. Emerson, on the other hand, was a prominent figure in the city. Her father would rest at nothing until her murder was solved and the killer behind bars. Beyond that, Emerson’s death would bring Lazarus Gray and his Assistance Unlimited team onto the case.
“I can explain,” he said, realizing that he had no choice. Within his mind, a wall was sliding into place, signaling a shift from the man he had been born to be — Arthur Meeks — and the man that he now believed himself to be — Thanatos. “I’m fascinated by Roman pottery and I wanted to get a better look at this urn. I was only planning to handle it for a few moments and then put it back.”
“You’re lying,” she replied. “You could have made a sizeable donation to the Museum and my father would have let you look at it. You know that. You were here to steal it, weren’t you?”
Thanatos sneered in response and lunged for her, his hands wrapping around Kelly’s throat. She staggered under the unexpected assault, her back slamming against the wall. As she fought for breath, the madness in her enemy’s eyes struck home.
Thankfully for her, Lazarus Gray had insisted that she learn the art of self-defense. Refusing to give in to the terror that was beginning to mount, she struck back, boxing Thanatos’ ears. He cried out but refused to loosen his grip, forcing her to take more drastic measures — she drove her leg up into his crotch, causing his eyes to bulge.
Blessed oxygen flooded her lungs as he backed away, hands over his privates. Knowing that her life was on the line, she took off for the exit, hoping to make it back to her office, where she could call for help.
Thanatos saw her flight and knew that his plan was now at risk. He quickly grabbed a small goblet that was resting next to the urn and threw it. The metal object bounced off Kelly’s skull and she slumped to the ground with a pained sigh.
Grabbing the urn, Thanatos was now torn. Should he flee with the object — or kill both her and Dinkins?
His decision was made easier by the lights that suddenly began to come on throughout the museum. Thanatos heard Dinkins’ voice, high-pitched and nervous. “I haven’t seen her, Mr. Emerson… Are you sure she’s still in her office? I thought everyone had gone home.”
The curator’s response echoed to Meeks’ ears. “Yes, I’m sure she’s here. There’s no need for you to turn on every light in the place! I know this building like the back of my hand!”
Recognizing that Dinkins was trying to alert him to the curator’s presence, Thanatos ran from the room, following one of the public halls until he came to an emergency exit. He shoved the door open and hurried to his car. Tossing the urn into the backseat, he started the engine and took off, knowing that his plans were now potentially in ruins.
“I only have one chance,” he said to himself. “I have to go into hiding! And Mr. Black’s going to have to speed up the timetable!”
Chapter VI: On Wings of Black
Max Davies stepped off the train, adjusting his hat as he did so. He cut a dapper figure, with his handsome face, olive complexion and slightly wavy hair. At thirty-seven years of age, he could easily pass for a man ten years younger.
The son of a crusading newspaper magnate, Max’s fortune was ensured from an early age. His good looks combined with his wealth to make him Atlanta’s most eligible bachelor for a period, though he had recently given up that status in favor of marriage to the actress Evelyn Gould.
Max flashed a winning smile to a couple of newspaper photo-jocks. They were eagerly taking his picture, shouting questions about what business had brought him back to Sovereign. He moved on without answering, knowing that the gossip columns would be buzzing with guesses of their own, no matter what he said.
What they didn’t know was that Max Davies was more than just a philanthropist. He was also the masked vigilante known as The Peregrine, driven by visions sent from beyond the grave by his dead father. Using those oft-unpredictable bouts of precognition, The Peregrine had battled monsters both human and demon for well over a decade. During that time, he’d met many important people, some of whom became his close friends.
Just two years prior, he’d visited Sovereign for the first time. The incident had led to a partnership with Assistance Unlimited. Since then, he and Lazarus Gray had maintained a steady contact.
But it wasn’t Lazarus Gray who had brought him away from his new bride.
This time, it was Josef Goldstein.
Max had met Goldstein in Germany back in the early 1930s, before the rise of Hitler. Their mutual interest in justice united them and they became fast friends, calling upon each other periodically when the occasion arouse.
Unfortunately, that would never happen again.
Stepping out to the street outside the train station, Max’s eyes scanned the rows of cabs waiting for their fares. When he caught sight of Mitchell standing next to Josef’s old car, he buttoned his overcoat and headed over, a sad smile on his face.
“You look like marriage is treating you well enough,” Mitchell said, shaking Max’s hand.
“It’s made a new man out of me.” Max slid into the backseat of the car when Mitchell opened the door for him. “I’m glad you called me.”
“I’ve spent most of the day making those kinds of calls. Hasn’t been easy, mate, I’ll tell you that.”
“I’m just glad I had business in this part of the country — the train ride only took a couple of hours.”