With a shiver that rocked his spine, The Peregrine realized that Lady Death herself was there in that room. She was no simple manifestation of Phillips’ madness, this was the dark lady herself, the one who kissed all men at the end of their days.
Lady Death stepped into view, her body hidden by her robes. She moved forward until she dominated The Peregrine’s vision and he could see the curve of her jaw beneath her hood. She opened her mouth and spoke, her voice sounding so seductive that Max nearly forgot what an awful thing she was: he had spent his whole life fighting to avoid her and to save others from her embrace but now, he realized how easy it would be to fall into her arms. "Max," she whispered, "come to me. It’s time."
A rapping on the driver’s side window of his car snapped The Peregrine out of his reverie. He turned his head to see a police officer standing there, obviously having come to check on him. When the officer saw that The Peregrine wore a mask, his eyes widened. Before anything else could happen, The Peregrine floored the accelerator and left a trail of burning rubber in his wake. There was no time to waste now: Samantha Grace was in the presence of Death herself.
Chapter VI
Darkness
Samantha woke up to a world of pain. The joints in her shoulders felt like they were on fire and as her mind cleared, she realized that she was shackled by her wrists to the ceiling of Phillips’ basement. Her clothing was gone and her nude body was covered by a fine sheen of sweat. The back of her head throbbed and her mouth felt abnormally dry and tasted tinny. She realized that she had bitten her tongue before falling unconscious and swallowed a good bit of blood.
Devil Face was about ten feet away from her, humming a song to himself as he polished a series of sharp knives and bone saws. His mask had been crudely repaired with glue and even in the dim lighting, Samantha could see that it hadn’t fully dried yet — bubbles of glue glistened in the candlelight. Even as she tested the strength of her bonds, Samantha recognized the tune that Devil Face was humming: Smoke Gets In Your Eyes by Paul Whiteman. She suddenly realized she was never going to like that song ever again.
Devil Face heard the rattling of the chains and glanced over at her. His eyes traveled up her toned legs, past the mound of Venus between her legs, over the flat stomach and pert breasts. He caught his breath, hating the way she made him feel. It was the way of women: to tantalize men with their bodies until the spirit was made weak. He would very much enjoy purifying her. He would cut away all the pieces that teased him and then he would drain her of blood, lovingly washing every bit of her until she was as pure as the driven snow.
"I was worried you weren’t going to wake up," Devil Face purred, moving toward her with a scalpel in his right hand. His foot brushed a bucket filled with tubing and Samantha swallowed hard, not wanting to imagine what it was for. "You’re going to be my thirteenth. That’s a sacred number."
Samantha grimly regarded the killer, refusing to show even the tiniest bit of fear. She trusted that Lazarus and the others would find their way there — and if they didn’t, she’d just have to free herself. "Should I feel honored?"
"Yes. You should."
"Let me go, Phillips. You’re in enough trouble as it is. Hurt me and I can’t promise that they’ll even let the police take you in. Lazarus might just skin you alive."
"I doubt that. I’ve read all about your employer. He’s committed to bringing criminals to justice. He’d actually blame himself if anything happened to me."
"Morgan won’t beat himself up for putting a bullet in your brain," Samantha said with a smile. That, at least, wasn’t a lie. Morgan carried quite a torch for her and she knew that he’d stop at nothing to avenge her.
Devil Face brought the scalpel up to Samantha’s cheek and drew it slowly across the skin, leaving a thin trail of blood. "You’re so beautiful," he whispered. "I wish you weren’t such a whore… but if you weren’t we couldn’t share this moment together, could we? So maybe I’m secretly glad."
Samantha flinched at the onset of new pain, but she said nothing. Her eyes caught the flicker of movement over Devil Face’s shoulder and she gasped. "Is someone else here with us?" she asked, unable to maintain her silence any longer.
Devil Face stepped back, his eyes wide with surprise beneath his mask. "You can see her?"
Samantha peered into the shadows but saw nothing at all. "I thought," she began, but then fell quiet again with a shake of her head. "It was nothing."
Devil Face smiled, momentarily taken aback but now once more in control. No one else had ever seen Lady Death, not even the girls who had rested on the precipice between the world of the living and of the dead. "Well, it’s time we began in earnest. You’re the last one."
"What does that mean?" Samantha asked, as Devil Face turned away from her. He moved over to the tray of sharp implements and set down his scalpel, plucking up one of the bone saws and examining the teeth on the blade.
"Thirteen girls have to die," he said, not caring if she knew his secrets. It was too late for her and he was too close to achieving ultimate power. What could it hurt? "And then Lady Death will cross over onto this plane and she’ll make me her consort."
Samantha heard the dreamy nature of his voice and couldn’t help but think he was absolutely insane. But she’d seen some very strange things as a member of Assistance Unlimited, so she wasn’t prepared to discount it completely.
"I’m not sure why being Death’s lover would be a good thing," she said, hoping to keep Devil Face talking long enough to allow her friends to find them.
"You haven’t felt her touch," Devil Face replied. He turned toward her with the bone saw in hand. As he approached, he bent down and grabbed the bucket filled with tubing and carried it in his other hand. He set the bucket down next to her dangling feet. "But you will soon enough."
Samantha slammed her foot against Devil Face in an attempt to hurt him, but her position didn’t allow her to put any real strength behind the blow and it elicited nothing more than a chuckle from the madman.
"Don’t fight," Devil Face warned. "It will only make things harder for you."
The next moment was one that Samantha would long remember. Devil Face placed the sharp blade against her shoulder, obviously intending to remove her right arm with no anesthetic whatsoever. Just before he began his grisly task, a figure descended the stairs and threw himself at Devil Face’s back. The impact knocked the villain aside, though the blade drug painfully across Samantha’s arm, taking a long stretch of flesh with it.
Devil Face whirled about to see Lazarus Gray facing him, hands balled into fists. Rapidly moving into the room were Morgan, The Dark Gentleman and Eun, all of whom looked at Samantha with concern. Normally, she would have felt embarrassed by her nudity but at the moment she didn’t care — her only desire was to be freed so she could help bring this killer to justice.
It was Morgan who reached her first, steadfastly keeping his eyes off her nakedness. He fumbled with the locks around her wrists, concern for her making him sloppy. "We’ll get that cut sewn up," he said, as if her bleeding arm was important to her.
Eun saw that Morgan was busy with Samantha so he moved to assist his employer, The Dark Gentleman in tow. Devil Face was swinging his blade with great skill, forcing Lazarus to keep his distance.
"There’s too many of them," Devil Face hissed. "Please — help me!"