Lazarus held up a hand, gesturing for Eun to stop. They had reached a ladder that led up to sewer grating. If their maps were correct, they should be coming up right into the basement of the never-finished warehouse.
Eun watched as Lazarus climbed the ladder and pressed against the grate. With a grunt, Lazarus was able to shove it aside and clamber out into the basement. Eun sprinted up behind him.
“Is it just me or does it stink even worse up here?” the young Korean whispered. He moved his flashlight’s beam around, illuminating the room. There was a single exit at the far end of the room, with what he guessed were stairs on the other side.
He had just risen to his feet and started in that direction when both he and Lazarus froze in place. From up above came the sounds of gunfire.
Both men ran to the door but it was Eun who reached it first. He yanked it open and started to bound up the stairs, only to draw himself up short.
He now realized why it smelled so awful in the basement. Because on the other side of the door were seven of the rotting dead, their sallow skins peeking out from behind bloodied bandages. A fat man in a threadbare suit stood behind them, looking altogether too pleased with himself.
“I knew it,” Davis hissed. “I knew you’d come in through the sewer, Lazarus Gray.” He shoved the nearest mummy in the back. “Go ahead. Kill them.”
Just moments before, Morgan Watts had stepped out from behind the wheel of his car. Sporrenberg and Samantha followed suit, having both been riding in the back. The German kept one hand under his coat, hiding the gun he was holding, while the pretty blonde was tensed, ready to throw herself to the ground if gunfire rang out.
Morgan, for his part, appeared completely at ease. He tipped his hat in the direction of the warehouse, easily spotting Constance as she leaned out to look at them.
The veiled woman yelled out, “Where is Gray?”
“Back at the home office,” Morgan replied. “You didn’t want him here, wasn’t that right?”
“Quite.”
“Good. So… we’ve done as you asked. Now you can show us Abby, so we know that you’re on the up and up.”
“What have you done with Abraham?”
“Lazarus is going to do what he can to help his condition and then we’re going to turn him into the authorities. Since he gave us so much information about your gang, though, Lazarus is going to put in a good word for him.”
“You’re lying. He wouldn’t have betrayed us.”
Morgan shrugged. “He told us that your HQ is on Holder Way and the other members of your team are Femi, Davis and Pemberley. Am I wrong about anything so far?”
Constance vanished from the window and Morgan smirked. He’d thrown her for a loop and now she was uncertain how to respond. Maybe, he mused, she’d realize that her goose was cooked and throw in the towel.
When she reappeared, she held a machine gun in her hands. She pulled the trigger, riddling the car with bullets. Both Sporrenberg and Samantha took refuge behind the vehicle, the German occasionally rising up enough to return fire.
Morgan, meanwhile, did the exact opposite thing: he sprinted towards the warehouse, lowering his shoulder so he could barrel into the front door. It gave way, the wood splintering as it did so. He tumbled into the foyer, rolling up into a crouch, a pistol having seemingly materialized out of his coat and into his hand.
Standing before him was a shocked looking Doc Pemberley. The physician held a scalpel in his left hand but he never got the chance to use it. Morgan fired three rounds, two of which found homes in the doctor’s chest. The third one caught him in the left leg, sending him to the floor in a whining heap.
“No,” Pemberley hissed. “This can’t be happening. I didn’t trade it all away to lose it like this…”
Morgan moved over him, not knowing what Pemberley was talking about… and then he thought back to how the doctor had gotten out of prison. He crouched next to the man, keeping an eye on the other exits. “Did you trade your soul for freedom, Melvin?”
Pemberley’s eyes were filled with tears. “It’s worse than that. I promised him anything… and everything.”
Morgan slammed the butt of his gun against the man’s head, knocking him out. “Might have known your soul wouldn’t have much value.”
After searching Pemberley’s pockets and finding nothing of value, Morgan found the stairs and headed up, towards Constance.
Femi stood just outside Abby’s room, a look of amusement playing across her beautiful features. She appreciated that Constance had aided The Undying in reviving her, having found the remaining members of the ancient cult and providing them with the means to find Femi’s remains. But beyond that, she had little loyalty to this woman or the other members of Murder Unlimited.
The Egyptian princess was here for two reasons: to finally gain revenge on the hated Lazarus Gray and to locate someone who could not only become her lover, but her guide to this strange new world. Femi thought she might have found both in the form of Melvin Pemberley. He was handsome enough to suit her physical lusts but so morally degenerate that she felt confident she could bend him to her will.
The sounds of gunfire filled the warehouse, echoing loudly off the bare walls. Femi flinched, still not accustomed to these deadly new weapons that men possessed. Though she felt a thrilling desire to know more about such modern inventions as the cinema and radio, the art of warfare was now so terrifying that even one of her power had to be awed.
Femi froze in place, having heard something in the brief pause in gunfire. She whirled about and came face-to-face with Abby. The brunette smiled coolly and tilted her head to one side. “You’re the team’s magic expert, right? The one who can raise the dead?”
With a soft laugh, Femi nodded. “I am a Mistress of the Lost Arts. I have conquered Death. I am the Giver of Pain.” She gestured contemptuously towards Abby. “You wish to test your powers against mine?”
Abby shook her head. “No. Not really. I just want to see you bleed.”
Before Femi could respond, Abby punched her right in the nose. Blood spurted from each nostril, dripping off the Egyptian’s chin. Abby finished the other woman off with a hard elbow to the top of Femi’s head.
Abby tied Femi in the same manner that she’d been bound, though she took the extra precaution of placing a spell on the ropes. She had just finished doing so when Morgan bounded up the stairs. He stopped short when he saw her and then his eyes twinkled.
“The dames on this team,” he said with a chuckle. “You take all the fun out of rescuing you.”
Eun Jiwon was a happy man.
When fighting, he was lost in the deadly ballet. His body was his instrument and he wrote a chilling symphony of death.
Battling Femi’s mummies had its pros and cons, however. The combats were long, which pleased him, but it was hard to do serious harm to the undead, which lessened the joy that Eun felt.
Even so, he threw himself into the fray with wild abandon, kicking and punching two or even three of the monsters at a time.
Lazarus, meanwhile, bypassed the mummies entirely. He threw himself into the air, displaying a gymnastic prowess that would have pleased even Samantha. He landed flatfooted beside Davis, who squawked in terror. Lazarus grabbed the fat man by the collar and slammed his head against the wall. He did this three times and then tossed the unconscious villain aside.