With a grim smile, Lazarus slammed a fist down futilely against Jack’s arm. When the monster looked at him, mouth still open in moans of pain, Lazarus threw the suitcase. It flew past Jack’s tusks, slamming down his throat. It lodged at the opening of his esophagus and Jack dropped Lazarus as he began to try and free himself of the foreign object.
Lazarus grimaced as he landed on the ground, twisting his ankle. He threw himself at both Abby and Samantha, knocking them down. He covered them with his body as the explosion began, ripping through Jack’s fragile interior. His dense flesh expanded outward like a hot air balloon and then collapsed inward, wisps of smoke emerging from his mouth and ears, just like in the cartoons they showed in the cinemas.
Jack staggered, a low groan emanating from his throat. After one more great sway of his body, Jack-In-Irons fell, his bulk smashing through the remains of the abbey’s great halls.
In the aftermath, there was only the wailing of Jack’s progeny, the screams of the injured and the almost mad laughter of Eun Jiwon. The Korean was pointing at the corpse of Jack-In Irons, cackling loudly despite the flecks of blood that caked his lips and the fact that his legs lay at an unnatural angle.
Chapter XIII
March 1936
Doctor Hancock didn’t usually drink on the job but in this case, he thought it might be appropriate. What he had just witnessed was nothing short of miraculous. He had assisted — though that was too strong a word, he supposed — in a surgery to try and repair the damage done to Eun Jiwon’s spine. Doc Daye, one of Sovereign City’s most brilliant men, had performed the operation and if Hancock hadn’t seen it himself, he never would have believed it. Eun should have never walked again, let alone had any hope of feeling sensations in his lower body. But now, given enough time to rehabilitate, there was no reason to assume that he couldn’t live out a normal life — or an abnormal one, considering he would mostly remain with Assistance Unlimited.
Hancock poured himself another shot of whiskey from Morgan’s private stash.
Morgan and Samantha sat side-by-side in the meeting room. Both had been briefed about the surgery’s success and they had privately shared a fierce hug and more than a few tears. They had all come through this extremely lucky: Morgan had suffered a collapsed lung and several broken ribs. It still hurt to breathe and he was afraid that he might never again be the man he used to be. Samantha, meanwhile, had gotten off relatively easy; a few stitches to her head and she was as good as new.
Morgan winced as he shifted in his seat and Samantha saw that as permission to take charge at the meeting. Abby and Sporrenberg were both present, having recovered from their own bumps and bruises. The German was dressed smartly in his uniform while Abby wore a black dress that accentuated her figure. Morgan had noticed this more than once, which did nothing to help with his painful breathing.
“Lazarus wanted me to apologize to both of you for missing this. He’s off on important business but he promises to speak to both of you upon his return.” Samantha paused for a moment, seeing confusion on both of their faces. “You do know what this is about, right?”
Sporrenberg gave a curt shake of his head. “Not a clue. I do appreciate the medical treatment I have received but I have to be going. Not only are my superiors demanding an explanation for my recent actions but Die Glocke itself is still out there.”
“Not for much longer,” Morgan said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Lazarus has a lead on that.”
Before Sporrenberg could inquire about this, Samantha said, “We’d like to have both of you onboard Assistance Unlimited. You’d get the same level of pay as the rest of us and would be able to live here, if you wished.”
Abby grinned broadly. “You barely know me.”
“You risked your life in Yorkshire and since then, you’ve been a big help around here while everybody got back on their feet. You’re an occult specialist and a practicing witch. We could use you.”
Abby looked down, unsure how to respond. Since her mama’s death, she’d felt adrift, always trying to do the right thing but without much in the way of direction. Lazarus Gray and his friends… they might provide that in spades. With an abrupt shrug of her shoulders, she said, “What the hell… I’m in.” She nudged Sporrenberg with an elbow. “What about you?”
Sporrenberg cleared his throat. “I cannot simply walk away from my obligations. I appreciate the offer. Sincerely. But there would be repercussions to this.”
Samantha leaned forward, her piercing blue eyes catching his. “If you’re worried about your family, Lazarus can have them out of Germany within 48 hours. It’s all arranged. All you have to do is say the word.”
Sporrenberg hesitated. “But… as Eun would say, I am Nazi scum.”
“It was his idea to invite you.”
Morgan nodded. “And you’re only a Nazi if you choose to be. Stay proud of your nationality if you want. But we think you can be more than a soldier in somebody else’s war.”
“Isn’t that what you all are?” Sporrenberg countered. “Soldiers in Lazarus Gray’s war?”
Morgan sat up so quickly that he wheezed in pain. “You don’t get it, do you? We’re not fighting his war. We’re fighting ours.”
Sporrenberg stared at both of them for a long moment. With shaking hands, he reached up to remove the signs of rank that he wore. “I want my family safely and humanely removed from Germany.”
Samantha relaxed. She’d assumed that Abby would say yes but Sporrenberg, he’d been a tough nut to crack. He was so fiercely loyal to the oaths he’d taken… But in the end, that was part of what they all admired about him.
And if anybody knew about second chances at life, it was Lazarus Gray.
Lazarus kicked the door with all his strength and it exploded inward, showing the laboratory with shards of wood. He held his pistol in his right hand and he was gritting his teeth from the awful din that made his fillings ache and his skull pound.
There was no one in the room but Die Glocke was humming loudly, performing its awful work despite not having an audience. Lazarus moved through the room, his eyes taking in the scene and his nose filling with the smell of Miya’s perfume. She’d been here only moments before, which meant that Lazarus’ worst fears were made reality: she had used Die Glocke. Where had she gone? What was she up to? Was she carrying out The Illuminati’s dark schemes… or was what Sporrenberg had surmised the truth of it all, that she had turned against her masters?
Lazarus flipped a switch on the infernal device and it began to power down immediately. Lazarus stared at Die Glocke with sadness in his heart. He had always hoped to somehow reach Miya… but now it was hopeless. Even if she had somehow planned to return, he couldn’t leave the device in working condition. It had to be destroyed so that the whole awful business could be laid to rest.
There was a nagging fear that touched his brain but he tried to ignore it. If her actions, whatever they were, posed a threat to the world, there was nothing to be done about it. He wasn’t about to step through into the abyss in hopes of finding her.
“Goodbye, Miya,” he said softly. “I hope it was worth it.” He thought back to how the whole business had begun: how he had been pining for his lost past and nearly forgotten loves. At the time, he’d wished that he could somehow change history and get back all that he had lost.
But if he had learned one thing during the entire affair of Die Glocke, it was that the past was a sacrosanct entity. You couldn’t change it, not should you want to. Every loss, every misstep, all added up to make each person who they ultimately were.