Never one to shy away from danger, Samantha was out of the car in a flash. Given the fact that both Smithson and Hansome were dead, it stood to reason that Phillips might be another target.
The petite blond hurried across the street, a small handgun clutched in her right hand. Her heels clicked on the asphalt and she was glad that she’d worn slacks today. She enjoyed the feeling of femininity that came with skirts and dresses, but they were difficult to fight in.
Samantha crept up the stairs toward the open door. "Mr. Phillips? Are you in there? I’m with Assistance Unlimited."
Stepping inside, Samantha noticed no signs of a struggle. She was about to raise her voice and identify herself again when she heard the creak of the door behind her. She whirled around to see Devil Face lunging for her, blade in hand. That it was Phillips was undeniable — the build and the fact that he still wore the same clothing made that quite clear. But the mask, with its distorted demon’s features, was disconcerting.
Samantha pulled the trigger but her shot went wild, passing harmlessly over Devil Face’s shoulder. Well versed in jujitsu, Samantha was able to quickly evade a swipe of the blade, but her position in the foyer didn’t allow her much room to work with and Devil Face was so large that she was immediately pressed up against the wall.
"I’m going to help you," the killer said, speaking in a voice that was much higher-pitched than the one she had heard Phillips use earlier. "Don’t be afraid."
If the situation hadn’t been so terrifying, Samantha would have laughed. Was he really telling her not to be afraid, even as he was stabbing wildly at her with a sharpened blade? Men were always confusing to her but killers were the worst: the natural inclinations men had toward being dense were amplified by madness.
Samantha jammed her knee into the big man’s crotch and she was rewarded with a squeal of pain from him. She drew up her pistol, pressing the barrel directly against the forehead of the mask but before she could fire, a white-hot pain sliced through her midsection. She felt rapidly spreading warmth spiral out from her stomach and she didn’t have to look down to realize that the killer’s knife was deep inside her.
If I die, I’m taking you with me, she thought, pulling hard on the trigger. Devil Face’s head jerked back as the bullet struck his mask and he staggered back in shock. Samantha reached down and gripped the hilt of the knife, growing dizzy as she began to extract the blade from her stomach. She tossed the weapon down and blinked away the stars that were obscuring her vision. As she sagged to her knees, she realized that Devil Face had recovered and was standing over her. His mask had protected him from the full impact but it had split in two and the pieces now lay on the floor. Phillips was staring at her, a tiny dot of blood between his eyes. His hands continually opened and closed and he was breathing heavily, as if he were teetering on the verge of anger or tears.
"You bitch," he hissed. "You broke my face."
Samantha struggled to lift her gun again, but her strength was fading nearly as quickly as the blood was gushing from her midsection. She heard the sound of Devil Face’s fist rushing through the air toward her head but she never saw it. The blow slammed her skull against the wall and rushed her into blessed darkness.
Phillips watched her for a moment before bending down and almost reverently picking up the broken pieces of his mask. "You have a lot of sins that are going to be washed away," he said, casting his gaze over Samantha’s bloody form. "Just remember: pain is the crucible that will forge the perfect you."
The Dark Gentleman tried to maintain his composure but it was hard to, seated as he was in the headquarters of the famous Assistance Unlimited, with no less than Lazarus Gray himself facing him across the table. Morgan and Eun stood behind their employer, wearing very different expressions. Morgan looked bemused while Eun seemed to grow more annoyed by the minute. The face of Lazarus was so impassive that the Dark Gentleman had no idea what the man was thinking.
"So I’m here because I want to help. I’m not looking to join Assistance Unlimited, but I thought that we could pool our resources."
Eun barked out a laugh. "What resources do you have that we don’t?"
"Enough," Lazarus said and Eun fell silent. "Michael, I admire your desire to help this city. It takes a special kind of man to put his life on the line for strangers. Nevertheless, it’s foolhardy to go into situations like this without proper training and know-how."
"I’ve done the best I could," Michael retorted. "It’s not like there’s a vigilante school where I could enroll."
"Understandable," Lazarus admitted. "But you’re just as likely to get yourself killed or get an innocent killed… if you’ll permit me, I’d be willing to tutor you in various skills."
Michael couldn’t hide the pleasure he felt. "I’d be honored."
Just then, a phone rang in the next room and Morgan went to answer it. He returned in less than a minute. "That was Davies. He says that the meeting’s broken up at Groseclose’s. But get this: Samantha’s gone, car and all. He thinks she went off after Phillips."
Eun glanced up at the clock. "She should have reported in by now."
All of them had overheard Melvin’s words at the meeting and understood what they meant. But the arrival of The Dark Gentleman had prevented them from going off in pursuit of Phillips for questioning.
Now Gray was in motion and it was a terrible thing to behold. His emerald-colored eye shone like a gem while the brown one seemed to smolder. His normally impassive face was now set in grim determination and from the way his jaw continually clenched and released, it was obvious that a cauldron of emotion was now at play. He stood up and began barking orders that were impossible to ignore.
"Morgan, bring the car around. Eun, tell Max to meet us at Phillips’ house. Michael, you’re with us."
The Dark Gentleman tried — and failed — to keep from grinning. "I’m ready."
"We’ll see if you are," Gray responded.
The Peregrine didn’t need to be told where to go. He was already in flight before Eun ever made it to the telephone. He borrowed Groseclose’s car without asking and burned rubber through the rain-slicked city streets. Before arriving in Sovereign, Max had heard the jokes about how often it rained here, but he’d quickly learned that it wasn’t hyperbole. It was as if God himself were constantly shedding tears for what had become of Sovereign.
The Peregrine tried to ignore the pounding in his head, but it was strong enough to force him to grit his teeth. His vision was swimming as the world around him intermingled with possible futures. The visions of future crimes that he often saw were far more of a curse than a boon and he’d prayed numerous times to be rid of them. He was forced to pull over to the curb, knowing that he had to ride it out before he could safely continue on his way.
The vision became clearer, obliterating everything else. The Peregrine saw a dark basement, the walls stained with gore. There were barrels or canisters of some kind, filled with the blood of Devil Face’s victims. Samantha was there, her nude body dangling from the ceiling, her arms stretched above her head. Devil Face was preparing his blades but he wasn’t alone, there was another in the shadows, nearly invisible. The Peregrine, who routinely walked along the dark and narrow passage that lay between the sane world and the supernatural, felt like he recognized this figure: he knew she was female and that her stench had been a constant companion to him over the years.