dochermes

"The Desperate Game"

7/18/1983

I.

As soon he came into the bar, Jeremy Bane automatically stepped to one side and turned his body sideways. He had been shot at more than once when entering places better than this dive. Two years on the Tagra tea diet had enhanced the Dire Wolf's bodily reactions enough that his eyes adjusted instantly to the dim lights after being out in the summer sun. He spotted no immediate threats. Two men sharing a newspaper in a booth didn't look up at his entry. The bartender's body language indicated no tension, no readiness to go for a weapon. It was Rook who then could claim his full attention.

Regarded as one of the most beautiful women in the Midnight War, Rook was tall, five feet seven, and slim as a dancer. The straight glossy black hair hung down to nearly the small of her back and contrasted with the simple dress of dark red silk. Having a French father and Japanese mother had gifted her with golden peach skin, a fine-featured oval face and huge dark eyes. As she saw Bane, those eyes became mocking. One elegant eyebrow lifted a fraction of an inch.

"Ah, the Dire Wolf himself," she murmured in a low pleasant voice when he neared. "Come to help me watch dismal world events? I've got the twelve o'clock news blues." She inclined her head toward the small black and white television fastened on a frame in one corner.

"Rook. We need to step outside. This situation is serious.."

"You're talking like a damn fool, Jeremy. I'm sitting on this bar stool for the forseeable future. I've got nothing to do and all day to do it in."

"What can I get you, buddy?" interrupted the bartender with a hint of insistence. He seemed suspicious of this tall thin man who dressed all in black and who had pale eyes which seemed innately cold and wary. Or possibly he was as smitten with Rook as most men became and resented Bane's presence.

Glancing down at Rook's half filled glass, the Dire Wolf replied, "I'll have a martini, too. Vodka, dry vermouth, ice, and a twist of lemon, nothing out of the ordinary."

"Jeremy, really? You are such a thorough American, I expected you to order a bottle of cold brew."

Putting money down on the bar, Bane took a sip. The drink was wasted on him. His enhanced healing factor meant that alcohol had absolutely no effect on him. He could have chugged down a bottle of vodka without reacting. "Rook, you're in more trouble than usual."

"That reward that that STIGMA posted on me? Oh, Jeremy. Don't tell me you've sunk to being a bounty hunter." The perfect lips curled up ironically. "I expect better from you."

The Dire Wolf took another tiny sip and placed the glass off to one side. "It's not me you have to worry about. My sources tell me it's badlands gossip that a half dozen different assassins have been reported in the Hudson Valley. A Blind Archer or one of the Night Gorillas? Karel Cherny, maybe Golgora?"

"I have had a high price on my head before," she replied, emptying her own glass with a back toss of her head. "So tiresome, to be retrieved for a bounty by some faceless mercenary. Are you here to offer me protection?"

There was no warmth in his voice, only firm restraint. "You helped me and my team against Cogitus. That weighs in your favor. Stopping your cat burglar career really isn't on my agenda. As far as I know, you've never killed anyone. You swindle and rob millionaires who are on the wrong side of the law themselves."

"Hmm. Are you sure you don't have more carnal motives, dear?" she asked. "I am not unattractive, after all."

"I'm all business, Rook. You know that."

"Somewhat to my regret," she chuckled. "But I understand. After all, your girlfriend is a telepath."

"Let's get going. Stewart Airport is only twenty minutes away."

"Ready for another one, sweetheart? asked the bartender, who had been conspicuously at the other end of the bar and out of earshot.

"In a minute, thank you." Rook turned those slightly oblique eyes on the man she had matched wits with before. "There is a complication. Despite what I said a moment ago, I do have an appointment to receive payment from a rather unappealing entrepeneur named Sebastien. Do you know him?"

"Only by reputation. Sort of a Midnight War fence for mystic talismans. Skip seeing him, Rook, we need to get you on a flight back to Europe."

"And mar my reputation? No, no, that would never do. I used to like to walk the straight and narrow line, Jeremy. I used to think that everything was fine. But the shady side of life calls to me so strongly. I was not born to live within the law, I am a natural outlaw and renegade. My God, I'm hardly alive unless I'm in danger."

Bane's self-control faltered for an instant as anger entered his voice. "I'm not sure why I'm doing this if you're not going to co-operate. But be that way. I'll take you to your payoff and still try to get out of the country alive."

"That's the way you are, dear. We are both of us true to our natures." She slid off the stool and smoothed her dress down. Off to one side was a small brown leather handbag on a gold chain, but she hesitated before picking it up. "But there is no better protection than having you on hand. The Dire Wolf. Faster than any Human. Are you still quick enough to slap a striking cobra? I myself have seen you in action. Am I being too cavalier, my dear friend?"

"I'm used to it," he replied without heat. All during their exchange, his eyes had never been still a second, moving intently for any possible attack. "Come with me to the door but stay over by the side."

Nodding sweetly to the bartender, Rook followed him. "Your manner has changed suddenly, Jeremy. You've got the wolf's air about you."

"A shadow crossed close by that window but no one came in," he replied. "Too obvious. They want me to go circle the building looking for them."

"But...?"

"It's a chance to get one assassin out of the way right at the start." He placed a hand on the doorknob and gave her a wry gaze. "I always walk into traps to get them over with."

( the rest of the story )

"The Pit of Snakes"

4/20-4/21/1983

I.

With the faintest flicker of pale blue light, three figures appeared from nowhere, abruptly standing on a hill under a clear Spring sky. In the middle of their grouping was a woman in a bright Kelly green one-piece jumpsuit, who swayed and almost lost her footing. The fact she was holding hands with the man on her right and the woman on her left gave her enough support to remain standing.

"Whew," she said and took a deep shuddering breath. "That took more concentration than I expected." Tall at five feet eight, slim and athletic, Karina seemed to be in her late teens with auburn hair cut in a shag and deep luminous green eyes that her jumpsuit had been selected to match. Her appearance did not hint at the full truth. The body standing there was that of a nineteen year old college student named Barbara Hoyt but it was now the willing host to the ancient spirit of the warrior-goddess of Myrrwha. Karina had existed since the Darthan Age of thirty thousand years ago, inhabiting with permission the physical forms of one host after another.

"I thought your ability to cross into other realms was effortless," said the black man to her side as he helped steady her. Ted Wright wore one of the dark field suits with its heavy boots, pants and waist-length jacket that had an inner layer of the flexible Trom armor inside. He was very dark-skinned, with a serious thoughtful face and there was grey beginning to scatter here and there in his tightly curled beard and short hair. The Blue Guide always seemed worried and anxious because that was both his nature and a result of his rolr as one of the healers of the Midnight War. "Your vitals seem good. Heartbeat is a bit fast at one hundred and nine."

"Oh, I'm fine, don't worry, Ted." Karina straightened and took the small travel bag from its strap on her shoulder to lower it to the ground. Her snug jumpsuit had a thin vertical black stripe down each side of the body, and she wore ordinary white sneakers but she had no pockets. "I'm used to just traveling between realms by myself. I've only taken one person at a time with me before."

Standing to Karina's left, Cindy Brunner gazed around the countryside where they had just materialized. She was a tiny blonde, not much over five feet tall, with dark gold hair that hung straight down her back. Cindy wore a field suit like that which Ted had on, although her jacket showed an impressive bust ledge over an otherwise thin little body. Her dark blue eyes moved quickly around the area.

"I'm picking up Human minds, not too far away," she said. "Maybe... six or seven adult males. Kind of rough, raw minds. Not really bad people, though." She frowned and turned back to her friends. "They're riding horses."

"Good, Cin. We're ready for company." Wright unclipped a small flat device from his belt and examined it. "Ah, too bad. Technology doesn't work in this realm. All our gadgets and weapons are going to be useless."

"Yeah, we sort of expected that," Cindy said. "That's why our team all has innate powers."

Karina laughed. "Do we need electronic gimmicks and anesthetic dart guns when we have the Midnight War's best telepath, the best gralic healer and the best unarmed combat fighter ever?" She jabbed a thumb at her own chest. "By that last, I mean myself, of course."

The Blue Guide shielded his eyes from the sun with the flat of his hand, peering up the hill. "Evaho. None of us have been here before. I suppose our first step is to meet those horsemen Cindy detected and see what the situation is. Then we can worry about finding this Walking Snake sorcerer."

The blonde telepath raised a hand, "No need. They're riding this way. I'm getting a clearer sense of their attitudes. They're kind of direct, uneducated farmer types. Simple, but not in a bad way. Still, there's a lot of anger just under the surface."

The three KDF members stepped out into plain sight, as much in the open as possible. Higher up the hill, dense forest began but they stood on wild grass that grew shin-high. Overhead, a bird circled and then wheeled away... a raptor of some sort, much like a hawk.

Seven men came down the slope on horses, bent over their saddles with weariness, faces grimy with sweat and dust. They were big, sturdy men in simple leggings and tunics of coarse material almost like burlap, and each had a short sword at his belt and a bow with quiver fastened to the saddle behind him. The riders were darkly tanned and weathered, their brown hair was tied back behind the neck and they had roughly trimmed beards. As they saw the three unexpected strangers standing before them, the riders pulled their horses short.

"Pergamir!" yelled one. "What does this mean?"

The lead rider was also the biggest man there. He had wide shoulders and a massive barrel chest, and his hair and beard had scattered grey hairs which in a Melgar indicated considerable age. The leader leaned forward in his saddle and gazed down thoughtfully at the three strangers.

"Know you that I am Pergamir son of Harakon. I gather that you are not from this realm but from another. We have seen no people with black skins here, yet you do not seem like a Danarakan nor a Veganoran to me. And you, my lady, surely with that sunset-colored hair and emerald eyes, you must hail from Myrrwha itself."

"You are widely traveled, good Pergamir," Karina replied. "I am indeed a daughter of Myrrwha. My friends here are, like myself, knights of the Order of Tel Shai."

( the rest of the story )

"Five Minutes Missing, Here and There"

9/11/1983

I.

After running full tilt for forty minutes, Karina slowed the treadmill to a walk and lowered its angle to be level. She checked her pulse and found it was ninety per minute. Toward the end, she had broken out in a light sweat. For the next few minutes, she walked slowly and then shut the treadmill off. Hanging on its grip bar was a small damp cloth that she used to wipe the machine, then ran it over her face and neck.

Karina looked as if she was nineteen and would stay that way for decades. That was the age Barbara Hoyt had been when she had willingly taken the ancient spirit into her body. She stood five feet eight and was slim, built like a runner with long legs and a remarkably narrow waist. Her auburn hair was in a shag cut that just reached the nape of her neck, and she had deep dark green eyes in a serious face with a wide jawline that ended in a square chin. Karina was not pretty but she was charismatic; it was difficult not to stare at her when she was near. At the moment, she was wearing sneakers, Navy blue shorts and a plain white T-shirt.

As she stepped down off the treadmill, the wall phone by the door to the gym rang. Karina went over quickly and picked up the receiver, "Yes? Hello, Jeremy. Is it urgent? I should shower and change, I just did a run. Good. I'll be down in a few minutes."

Suddenly excited, the Myrrwhan goddess hurried from the gym out in the hall where the stairs were. There was an elevator, but she never used it. The gym took up most of the seventh floor of the KDF headquarters building, she only had to race down three flights to be on the fourth floor. Here were a few guest rooms and the quarters for those who were associates but not full KDF members. At this point, that consisted only of herself, Shiro Mitsuru and Garrison Nebel.

The door was unlocked. Her main room was Spartan, even drab. There was a Queen-sized bed by the window on 38th Street, a desk with a computer, a shelf with a dozen books, a few chairs and not much else. No pictures on the wall, no knick-knacks, none of the little touches people add to personalize their space. But then, she was not here that often. Karina went into the bathroom, threw her clothes in the hamper and took a steaming hot shower before getting out and drying herself brusquely with a towel.

The muscles in her arms and legs showed unusual definition when she moved but otherwise she looked like a normal woman in great condition. Back in her room, she put on panties, white socks, black tights and a loose linen tunic that was tailored in at the waist. She never wore a bra, feeling they restricted movement in a duel and her small firm breasts didn't need one. Dropping down on the bed, the Myrrwhan goddess laced up plain black canvas sneakers and was ready. With her hair still damp, she rushed out and down the stairs to the second floor where the conference room was.

Here, at the head of a long oak meeting table, sat one of the few Humans she fully admired and respected. Jeremy Bane glanced up as she entered and gave the faintest of welcoming smiles. It took people a long time to get to where they could read expressions on his usually deadpan face. The Dire Wolf gestured to the chair next to him. "Good to have you here. I think there's an important case opening up and the two of us are the only ones available."

"Great," she replied as she dropped down into the chair at his right side. "I was thinking of going to Okali for a while... maybe straighten out those Skullhunters."

"You're the only person I know who can travel through the adjacent realms without using a travel crystal or something. Except for Khang, of course." Bane had a manila file folder in front of him. He leafed through its contents and then looked up at her. Those infamous pale grey eyes were more subdued than usual. "First, we need to clear up a few details. Okay. As an associate member, you have been receiving a monthly stipend from the Kenneth Dred Foundation. It's not a fortune but it has been piling up in the bank account kept under Barbara Hoyt's name. I just want to remind you of that."

Leaning forward, Karina propped up her chin with one fist, elbow on the table. She was more relaxed around Bane than with almost anyone else. "Myrrwha provides me with what I need, captain. When I go there, I am after all regarded as their patron spirit. I leave with a pouch of gold coins and whatever equipment seems useful. Still, that bank account might be needed someday."

"This next bit is kind of personal," the Dire Wolf said, hesitating. "Barbara's family called a few times. The letters and phone calls have been getting spaced further and further apart. The family hasn't had an actual visit from Barbara in over a year. I assured them that you were fine--I mean, that she was fine."

The deep green eyes studied him for a moment. "Barbara IS fine," Karina said at last. "But she will surface less and less as time goes by. Eventually, she will slumber deeply. We are not in a possessed state where Barbara and I trade places. She knew that. But I will phone her family more often and reassure them."

"What exactly will happen to Barbara?" Bane asked.

"Nothing. She will sleep deep inside me. When this body becomes aged or is destroyed, her spirit will travel on to wherever all Humans go. That is as much a mystery to me as to anyone."

"All right," Bane said. "When we first met, I sort of thought that Barbara would go about her life like before and call on you when you were needed. It's not like that."

"No." Just the single word.

"Well, anyway, Inspector Klein was here and just left after filling me in on three very odd robberies. Some of the details make me think that an artifact from ancient Zhune was used. And that inevitably means we will tangle with probably our worst enemy."

Karina smiled in an anticpatory way. "Karl Eldritch..."

II.

Stepping out into a warm stuffy September afternoon, Karina could not help smiling. She loved visiting the KDF and participating in their cases. She could not commit herself to full-time membership, of course, nor apply to be a student at the Order of Tel Shai. Her duty to her homeland Myrrwha came first. Still, the ancient spirit of the first Karina had been born at the very beginning of the Darthan Age and had dared to receive forbidden knowledge from the Sulla Chun on Ulgor; she was a warlike spirit that thrived on conflict and peril.

Bane wanted to contact some of his army of observers to get some information before acting. Over the years, instead of accepting rewards from people he had saved, Bane had asked instead that they keep an eye out for any weird or supernatural activity. It had worked out amazingly well for him, and now he was calling some of those observers who might have heard about Eldritch being spotted recently. She had been too impatient to wait.

In a few minutes, she was nearing Times Square. Before leaving the headquarters, she had clipped two items to her waistband. The communications Link and a flat leather case that held Barbara Hoyt's driver's license and other ID, a credit card and some cash. Karina refused to wear the flexible Trom armor or to carry any of the KDF gadgets and weaponry. She had to go her own way. Reaching 44th Street, she swung toward Sixth Avenue and spotted a small shop on the corner.

The window read SCHNITZER CAMERAS. The owner himself had been manning the shop when it had been robbed and she had a description of him. When she entered, a small bell over the door rang. Behind the cash register to her right, a rather small man in a light blue suit with a red tie straightened.
"Good afternoon, miss."

"Hello," she answered as she glanced around the store. The counters seemed sparsely stocked, with quite a bit of space between the merchandise. That figured. She went over to face the owner. Donald Schnitzer was not far from being sixty, the grey hair had receded far back on his head and he peered at her through thick-lensed glasses. The smile was strained.

Karina held up her leather case and showed him the laminated photo ID card that identified her as representing the Kenneth Dred Foundation, working as consultants to the NYPD. The ID card was official-looking and Karina's sheer presence won him over. She had a confidence and self-assurance that few people resisted. "Have you been told that there have been other robberies like the one that happened here?"

"What? No. You mean, with people not remembering what happened?"

"Exactly. In each case, the people suddenly realized that money or valuables were missing and they had seen nothing. Then they figured out that roughly five minutes had gone by that they could not remember. They had just gone blank." She turned those dark green eyes on him thoughtfully. "The same as happened to you."

Schnitzer sagged visibly. "Oh, thank God. That sounds strange. Let me explain, I was thinking I had a stroke or something. That I had a blackout and something was medically very wrong. But not if it happened to others the same way."

"It should be reassuring," she said. "According to the police, you said you heard the door open and looked at that clock on the wall."

"Yes. It said 4:51 and I remember thinking my assistant Lewis would be coming in at 5 and then I could finally go home as my feet hurt." Schnitzer leaned forward and lowered his voice. "Then it happened. I blinked. I was standing in front of this counter with both hands raised up by my head."

"Go on," she prompted, also in a low voice.

"Naturally I was confused. Nothing like that had ever happened before. For some reason I looked at the clock and it now read 4:56. I had lost five minutes somehow. This was so upsetting that I just stood there. Then Carl came in and immediately said, 'what happened to all the cameras?'"

"The police tell us that over a dozen of your most expensive cameras were stolen, along with some lenses and other equipment. You didn't see who came in the door?"

"No, not all. I wish I had."

"And you don't have a security camera?" Karina asked.

"No, I don't. I know it's ironic, a camera shop lacking a camera..." He looked up at her face in desperation. "The police didn't tell me there had been other robberies like this."

She made a scoffing noise. "They are not always thoughtful. Have you remembered of any details you noticed? Not matter how small, it may be useful."

"Welll... there was the smell of cigarette smoke in here when I came out of it. Neither my wife nor I smoke, so I'm sensitive to the odor. That's about it, I'm afraid." He was studying her face closely. "What do YOU think happened?"

Karina shrugged. "My guess is some kind of fast-acting narcotic gas, but then I can't explain why you didn't fall down. Maybe some new electronic effect that jolts a victim's thought processes? There's not much to go on."
Two low beeps sounded at the back of her waistband. As she unclipped the Link, she said, "Thank you for your co-operation, sir. I will try to get back to you."

Stepping outside, Karina held the device up to her face. The Links were Trom devices, grey metal oblongs small enough that she could close her fingers around it. She saw the number on the screen. "Yes, captain?"

"Karina, hi," came the distinctive Jeremy Bane voice. "I've turned up a few leads. One is down by Battery Park, one not far from where you are and there is a more remote possibility way over in Brooklyn."

"Tell me more," she said, heading up the sidewalk.

"Someone resembling Eldritch was seen at Newark Airport a week ago. When you're six foot seven and bald, you stand out in a crowd. He has five thugs who work for him in the area, two of them down by the World Trade Center and three who operate in Times Square. Three of the goons seem to be staying at the Ace of Clubs on Eighth Avenue."

The Myrrwhan goddess swung right and started in that direction with long-legged strides. "Those are mine, then. I suppose you want them kept alive?"

"Yes, absolutely," Bane said. "The NYPD likes to use us unofficially as loose cannons but we can't go overboard all the time. These guys might not have done any crimes that carry the death penalty."

The full lips turned up slightly at the edges. "As you say, captain. I will merely hurt them a lot. Anything else?"

"Just a reminder about Eldritch," said Bane's voice. "He's the one bad guy I try to avoid confronting without a plan. He's almost impossible to destroy. He comes back from having his chest blown out, being frozen solid, being shrunk to the size of a dust mite... I give up on getting rid of him permanently."

"Understood," she said and impatiently broke the connection. She wanted to get this underway. Walking briskly to Eighth Avenue, she turned right and started heading north. At 48th Street, she spotted a smoked glass door propped open with a brick. On it in fancy gold lettering was ACE OF CLUBS -LIVE MUSIC FRIDAY AND SATURDAY NIGHTS. Karina adjusted her tunic, squared her shoulders and walked boldly right through the door.

The big dance floor was deserted and still littered with debris from the previous night, including cigarette butts and lighters, scraps of paper, assorted change and even a set of keys. The far wall was mirrored, the bar was to the right and the bathrooms to the left. Three men were in that dance room, two of them sitting on wooden chairs tilted back against the wall. The third man was pacing back and forth, swinging a metal rod two feet long in 'one hand. All three men were big, intimidating guys in work clothes. They all had black curly hair and olive skin, so Karina thought it likely they were related.

They did not see her in the doorway at first and the standing man was grumbling, "Wait till the boss shows up. That's when we can negotiate new terms."

"I gotta say, I want to get away from him," said another of the thugs. "He scares me so bad I can't think straight.. hey. You want something, girlie?"

Walking steadily toward them, Karina smiled and they thought she was being friendly. In the dim light from the open doorway, they could not see the lowered eyebrows that made her expression ominous. "There is no point in trying diplomacy," she answered. "I have seen your type in many lands through the ages. Violence is all you respect."

With that, she took two quick steps forward and spun on one heel, her other leg whipping around to smack her heel right to the side of the standing man's jaw. His head turned around far to that side and he fell in a heap, dropping the red metal baton. The other two had jumped up at the sudden burst of motion. One must have already had his gun in hand, there was no sign of his drawing as he extended the Walther P99 and fired once. The flash of white light was dazzling in the dim room and the shot sounded like thunder.

Karina was not invulnerable. When taken off guard, she could be injured as easily as anyone else, but when she tensed up her body with gralic force, she became dense and hard to harm. Wheeling about, she flung out her open hand and the bullet struck her palm as if striking an iron wall. With a whine, the slug ricocheted to one side and burst apart a whiskey bottle on the wall. The man fired again, not sure what had happened, and this time the Myrrwhan goddess slapped the bullet to one side. It smacked home right in the center of the other thug's chest. That man howled in pain and surprise, and sank to his knees as he curled up into a ball.

One thug dazed by that kick to the jaw, another dying of a bullet in the heart, and Karina lunged at the remaining goon. With her right hand, she seized his gunhand at the wrist and tugged it out straight. In the same motion, she drove her left leg up into his armpit and dislocated that arm violently. The thug yelped and dropped the gun, too preoccupied with his pain to think of the situation.

Automatically, Karina kicked the pistol far to one side before deciding she could ignore the three men for a second. The baton that had been dropped had rolled up against a counter. It was two feet long, slim enough that a hand could be closed completely around it. Like all Zhune artifacts, the baton was constructed of a copper-colored metal that had a hot sheen to it. One end was capped by a glass lens, with a conspicuous button just beneath it. It matched the characteristics of other Zhune relics she had heard about.

The Myrrwhan warrior took a single step toward that rod and froze. Filling the open doorway was an immense bald man who glared at her with open menace in his hazel eyes.

III.

The two towers of the World Trade Buildings loomed up nearby, almost surreal in their height, but a row of warehouses and shipping offices in their shadow remained dingy and rundown in sharp contrast. Here was a street of stone facades unbroken by windows, with an occasional loading dock and ramp to break the stolid surfaces. Delivery trucks rumbled by as Jeremy Bane pulled his Mustang onto a side street. At the end of this block stood a five story brick building with an arched sign over the front door that read VALHALLA ARMS and a smaller sign, ROOMS AVAILABLE.

Here was where his sources had told him two of Eldritch's gunmen had lived for the past month. Bane hated coming up against Karl Eldritch because the man was seemingly impossible to get rid of permanently. Years earlier, Eldritch had learned the ultimate secret of the ancient Zhune civilization, the way to convert matter into energy and energy into matter. The warlock recovered from damage that would kill any other life form as his body took in any energy from light to heat and used it to rebuild himself.

And there was the technique Eldritch had of converting a tiny bit of his body mass into primal atomic force. He could throw destructive bolts of force that sheared through steel or stone or human beings with equal ease. Facing Eldritch, Bane had had to come up with tricks and surprises to get the warlock out of the way even for a few months. He hated the way that Eldritch kept returning.

And here the nuisance was, back again. Still searching for the surviving relics of Zhune with their weird properties. Bane was more annoyed than anything else at this point. He walked up the alley between the hotel and the warehouse next to it, trying windows as he went. Sure enough, one was not only unlocked but actually open a crack. The Dire Wolf pushed it up and listened for a seconds, then took a big chance and easily slid through intio a dingy hallway. His early teens had been spent doing a lot of breaking and entry, and he was more nimble now than he had been then.

There was an open staircase to his left and he moved up to the third floor, placing his feet on the outer edges of each step to minimize squeaking. It smelled as if someone was boiling cabbage in one of the rooms as he stalked past the the first few doors. The one at the end had small numbers 34 on it. That was where his source had told him to check. This place is sure quiet, Bane thought to himself, maybe it's not doing good business. Even without trying, he could hear the unreal buzz of television voices in the room, as opposed to voices from someone physically present.

The Dire Wolf looked up and down the hall, seeing no one. All the doors were closed. There was no sound of the elevator motor being used. He dropped to one knee and peered through the keyhole of room 34, then smiled to himself. Sitting in a chair not five feet from the door was a big man with curly black hair, holding a .357 Magnum in one hand. He was facing away from the door and the back of his neck was completely exposed. This was too tempting to pass up. Bane drew his dart pistol and calculated the angles for a moment, then pressed the long thin barrel up against the keyhole and squeezed the trigger.

The barely audible cough of the gas-powered weapon was immediately covered by a loud curse from inside the room. The thug slapped at the back of his neck and just discovered the small metal dart sticking out from it before he fell to the floor. The Trom-formula drug in those darts disoriented a victim almost instantly and brought about unconsciousness within three to four seconds. As Bane holstered his gun again, he heard the other man in that room yell, "Hey! Danny, what's the matter? Are you okay?"

Standing up, the Dire Wolf tried the doorknob and found it was unlocked. This was just going way too smoothly. It smelled like a trap. He drew the dart gun again and waited. After a few seconds, he heard the low murmur of voices inside the room, so there was a third gunman in there. No, two more. He could distinguish the voices. Someone growled, "Well, go LOOK!"

As the door opened, Bane drew up his left leg and drove it out in a straight side kick to the chest that hurled that man backwards as if he had been thrown by a catapult. The thug crashed into two men behind them and they all went down in a surprised tangle of arms and legs. Even as they hit the floor, Bane was on top of them. He smacked one hard on top of the head with the butt of his dart gun, then drove his elbow down into the pit of another gunman's stomach. That thug vomited all over himself from the blow.

Leaping up, seizing the Uzi that the man on the bottom of the pile was holding and wrenching it away, Bane pointed the dart gun at the dazed man he had struck and gave him a dart in the neck. The goon who was retching was still holding a shotgun which had its barrels sawn off halfway down and he took that away, too. Bane grabbed the man on the bottom and yanked him up on his feet.

"I only need one of you to answer questions," the Dire Wolf said quietly. He prodded the man under the chin with the thin barrel of his dart gun. The weapon was non-lethal but this thug didn't know it.

"Don't kill me, man! Don't kill me!"

"Here's what I know," Bane said. From the corner of his eye, he saw the sick one trying to get up. Too quickly to be seen, the steel-capped toe of his boot cracked against the man's head and dropped him senseless. "Here's what I know," he repeated, "You guys are working for Karl Eldritch. I've tangled with him six times already, I know all he cares about is getting his hands on Zhune devices. Where is he? What's his next move?"

As the thug hesitated, the Dire Wolf said, "There's nobody listening."

"I know who you are," the thug answered. "I know you. We were told to be ready for you. The boss said you might, well, he said 'get in the way.'"

"Come on, talk. Think about it, I just did all of this without being angry. Do you want to annoy me?"

"Okay, okay, Eldritch is gonna be with the other team at the Ace of Clubs. That's in Times Square. That team had a gadget that erases peoples' memories. You flash it at people and they forget everything that happened in the last five minutes. I don't know how it works, it's weird."

"And his other team has been pulling the mysterious robberies this week? They hold a place up and then blank out the witnesses?"

"Yeah, that's it. No one got hurt, Mr Bane. I swear it."

The Dire Wolf pushed the gunman hard to fall back onto the worn-out couch. "When is Eldritch supposed to show up at that club?"

"Around noon. He's staying at a fancy place by Central Park."

"It's almost noon now," Bane said. He headed for the door, then paused to point a finger at the gunman. "For your own good, don't let me see any of you guys again." With that, he was gone and the man sat unmoving on that couch, too overwhelmed by the past few minutes to think clearly.


IV.

She had managed to position herself to block Eldritch's view of the fallen Zhune artifact. Karina had never felt such fear, not in this incarnation. It was not the size of the warlock that intimidated her, nor the hostility on his face. She had battled Trolls and Kobalim. It was the aura of seething unseen force around him, the immensely potent destructive power contained within him. Karina could sense it and she realized she was in the presence of an enemy that her fighting skill was useless against.

The warlock was wearing an expensive dark blue suit with a white shirt and black tie, obviously tailored for his huge body. Eldritch kept his head shaved, but the eyebrows above those pale eyes were thick and bushy. In that square unyielding face, the eyes were alert and seemingly always angry. Leaving the door to the street open, he took three long strides into the room and surveyed the scene.

"I don't know you," he rumbled at Karina, pointing a finger. "Stay where you are." He turned back to the three thugs, one of whom was sitting up and just regaining his senses and one of whom was holding a dislocated arm. The third was an unmoving heap on the dusty floor. "Who did this to you men?"

"She did," said the dazed thug as he struggled to get his feet, using one of the chairs as leverage. "Some kind of kung fu or karate expert, I guess. We weren't expecting that."

Eldritch grunted and turned his attention to the man on the floor. "Sergio is dead," he declared and held out one massive hand. Intolerably bright white energy erupted from that hand and rushed over the corpse like a stream from a firehose. The body was gone without a trace. As everyone blinked and tried to see past the dark spots remaining in their vision, Karina decided on her next action.

"Aw, boss," said the man who had been kicked in the jaw. He was still touching it gingerly. "He deserved a decent burial. There's nothing left."

"Be silent! You, Frank. Come here and I will reset that arm." As the suffering man reluctantly came closer, Eldritch reached out to place one hand high up on his shoulder. "The pain will be much less after I do this."

At that moment, with everyone focused on the dislocated arm being reset, Karina seized the Zhune artifact and dove at the open door. She swung around just as Karl Eldritch turned his head at the movement. The Myrrwhan goddess held out the metal rod like a flashlight and pressed the single button, looking away as she did so. There was a brief flash of that same white light, flooding the dance floor for an instant, and then she was out on the street in a full run.

Quicker than an Olympic sprinter, Karina raced around the back of the building and across Ninth Avenue to swing around out of sight down an alley and out the other side. She ran south for a few blocks and turned at 38th Street. Even though she glanced behind her frequently, she felt certain that a lumbering brute like Eldritch could not possibly have kept up with her. If the Zhune wand had worked properly, he had forgotten everything that had happened in the previous five minutes and was right now trying to make sense of what his hired men were telling him but they knew nothing either. Suddenly, she was grinning in delight as she ran.

V.

Just as she rounded the corner at Lexington, Karina felt the Link in her waistband buzz. She brought it up to her face without breaking stride and heard Bane's voice ask, "Can you talk?"

"Yes. I have the Zhune artifact, I am within sight of our building now. Oh, I see you in the doorway!"

"You have great timing," said the voice as contact was broken. Standing in the open doorway of the headquarters, Bane raised a hand in greeting. "Get inside, quick," he said. The Dire Wolf led her through the panel at the back of the walk-in closet close by the door. They went down steep concrete steps, past the generator and water heater, and stopped before a massive door of cold iron. He punched in a dozen numbers on the keypad and swung the door open. To the right was a light switch he flicked.

"I don't believe I have ever been in here, captain." Karina stepped in before him and stared at wooden shelves holding a bizarre assortment of swords and ceremonial knives, shrunken heads, a drum with a cat's head design, goblets and chalices, the Spiked Gauntlet, small clay idols, the Brand of Submission, the Ghoul-summoning pendant, locked wooden boxes bound with Eldar talismans and much more. Stacked against one bare stone wall were a dozen assorted devices made of the same reddish metal.

Taking the baton from her, Bane walked over and carefully placed it on the pile of similar artifacts. "When this is over, we should spend an afternoon down here," he told her. "Everything in this vault has a story behind it. That chest holds the fragments of Hellspawn, for example."

"The Darthan sword? Really. I encountered it in an earlier incarnation." She jabbed a thumb at the Zhune relics. "Why don't we use these gadgets ourselves? They would be useful."

Bane folded his arms and stared at the pile of ancient relics. "I wish we could. But Eldritch is the only one who can charge them up. They run out of power quickly, and nobody else has the secret to recharge them. All we can do is keep them out of his hands."

"Hmm. Captain, we should fill each other in on what we found. Karl Eldritch is, as far as I know, not far from here and no doubt furious that someone stole one of the Zhune gizmos."

"You're right," Bane said. He went back out into the narrow corridor and, once she joined him, sealed the vault door again. "You start..."

They went back up to the front hall as she briefly told her story. Bane listened and then explained what he had been doing that morning. To her surprise, he went into the tiny foyer and started to open the door to the street again.

"Where are you going?"

"Let's sit outside for the moment," the Dire Wolf said. He dropped down on the top step in front of the outside door and she sat down next to him. "I have a hunch Eldritch will be coming here," he told her. "His men down by the World Trade Center saw me. They'll tell him everything. He may not remember meeting you, because of that gadget you used. But he will know that someone beat up his men at the Ace of Clubs and took it."

"That makes sense," she agreed. "And you'd rather meet him out here?"

"Well, he might burn a hole through a wall or door with his atomic force. Why let him damage the building? We'll intercept him out here." The Dire Wolf turned his head to meet her gaze. "And I have an idea how to get rid of him."

"I've been thinking that over, too," Karina said. "It seems like nothing destroys him permanently. He may be literally immortal. Maybe if we could drop a mountain to pin him down..."

Bane leaned closer. "There's one trick that might work. One of your abilities is the key. Listen.."

The Myrrwhan goddess broke into a delighted grin at his suggestion. "Oh, I like that. Captain, I am starving. I know you are always hungry. Maybe I can run in and grab something from the kitchen for us?"

The Dire Wolf got up. "I think it's better that you stay out here in case Eldritch shows up. How about sandwiches and something to drink? Ham and cheese on rye okay? Juice?"

"Yes," she said, still smiling. "Make mine really thick, with lots of mustard. But just ice water to drink."

"Be right back," Bane said but he stopped where he was. A dark limousine with tinted windows had pulled up against the curb. From the back seat, a huge bulk in a blue business suit squeezed out and Karl Eldritch slammed the door behind him furiously. As the limo pulled away, the warlock stood on the sidewalk and raised his fist at them.

"I'm sure you know why I am here!" Eldritch yelled as passers-by slowed to listen and stare at the bald giant. "Return to me what is rightfully mine."

"You don't own those Zhune artifacts," Bane replied calmly, "and you sure don't deserve them."

Karina got to her feet and went down the steps to stand in front of the warlock. "I don't believe we have met, have we?"

"My agents have told me of you working with Dire Wolf," Eldritch grumbled. "The patron of Myrrwha. Karina, is it?"

"Exactly," she said and unexpectedly lunged to wrap her arms around his shoulders. In a shimmer of blue light, they were both gone. It was so quick that people who were not looking directly at them saw nothing, and only a few bystanders blinked in confusion.

VI.

Karina jumped back away from Eldritch. They were standing on hot yellow sand under a sun blazing in a sky without a single cloud. Not far away were ruins. Stone columns that had fallen over, colossal statues without their heads, a paved road almost covered with drifting sand. The only life in sight was a small stretch of dried and unhealthy looking grass alongside the road.

The warlock stared wildly around him but recovered his wits quickly. "Khebir? Yes, it must be Khebir."

"A deserted realm," Karina told him coldly. "Since the death of Menekartes, no living soul has resided here. Nothing but ruins and a few lizards and insects."

"And you have brought me here...?" he said, moving toward her.

"Not exactly. I am leaving you here!" With that, she was gone in another flare of the blue light. Suddenly she was standing at the foot of the steps of the KDF building again, with traffic rumbling past and the sound of human voices. Karina stumbled as she returned, having reappeared an inch or so off the ground.

"Looks like it worked," Bane said.

"I think so. I can travel between realms but he can't."

"He's never shown that ability," the Dire Wolf said. "Hopefully, he's stuck in Khebir now and out of our hair."

Karina straightened her tunic and smiled. "It is always interesting to visit you, captain. Let's have that lunch and congratulate each other on how very clever we are."

"Sounds good," answered Bane. He stepped aside to let her pass. "I'd be glad to see you stay here as a full time member, Karina."

"Oh, that is not my nature," she said lightly. The green eyes were bright. "I come and go and answer to no one. Maybe tomorrow I will wander to another realm. Looking for trouble. Chujir? Androval? I can't say."

"Well, I bet you won't be visiting Khebir any time soon," Bane said as he followed her inside.

3/23/2016

"Swamp Flower"

8/11- 8/12/1983

I.


The shack stood at the edge of the Swamp, near the bank of a sluggish murky river. A long narrow road, more mud than dirt, stretched back twelve miles to Ballinger Corners, near the Louisiana border. No telephone wires were strung here. The shack had three rooms and an outhouse with a crescent shape cut out in the door, but no electricity and no running water. It wasn't the worst by any means in this part of the county. Five months earlier, the lone occupant had been found in the doorway with his spine twisted like a stick of licorice. No arrests had been made and the death had faded from local gossip. No one in town knew that it had been purchased by Northerners just days ago.

Early in the morning, a black helicopter rushed down from the stagnant overcast sky. It made almost no sound, barely more than the rush of wind would. There were no markings on its sleek, sharklike shape, and it had twin vertical vanes instead of a tail rotor. The CORBY glided down to a smooth landing near the shack, its rotors slowing quickly and rising up slightly as they halted. The pressurized cabin slid open with a hiss of escaping cool air and the ship's two occupants hopped nimbly out on to the moist soil.

One was a man in his mid-twenties, six feet tall and lean as a runner, with short dark hair and pale eyes. Even in this muggy heat, he was dressed all in black... boots, slacks, turtleneck and sport jacket, somehow giving him the look of an executioner. The grey eyes swept over the scene with cold suspicion before he relaxed slightly and turned back to his partner. Jeremy Bane held out a hand to her. Cindy Brunner was several years younger, five feet one inch tall and weighing ninety-five pounds. She wore ankle boots, denim jeans and a red halter top which showed she looked fine without a bra. With blonde hair tied back in a thick ponytail and dark blue eyes gleaming in a freckled face, she was a pleasant sight in any case. Cindy swept her gaze around the area but in a different way than Bane's searching glare. She was trying to pick up mental activity.

Bane shrugged and turned to her. "Sensors in the CORBY reported no life forms bigger than a frog here. I sure don't spot anyone. Cin?"

"I can't feel any minds," said the telepath. "Even a sleeping person gives off waves I could pick up."

"All right then," the Dire Wolf said. "Let's unload our gear. Hopefully we won't have to stay here long."

"I hear you." The little blonde popped open a storage compartment on the side of the black helicopter and tugged out a knapsack, then a big duffel bag. The easy way she yanked them out and tossed them aside showed she was stronger than an observer might guess. "This is not my idea of honeymoon suite by any means, and I'd just as soon.." Her voice trailed off.

"Cin?"

"Just a second. Hang on, Jeremy, I'm picking up something." Cynthia Lee Brunner was a gifted telepath, with no other gralic abilities, but her powers often involved sensing faint residue at places where abnormally strong emotions had left an imprint. She called these residues "ghost emotions." Now she had caught something the way a normal person might sniff the air to try to identify a vague odor. "I feel it. Fear. And hate. Hate too strong to dissipate." Eyes slightly unfocused, hands held out before her like a walker in darkness, she began to head around the shack. As soon as she had spoken, Bane had snapped an odd-looking air pistol from the small of his back and he swung around ahead of her protectively. He spotted the corpse first.

It had been a young girl, black, maybe fifteen at the most. She had not been pretty in life and death had not improve that, but it did give her a sad vulnerability. The body lay on its back, fully dressed, knees drawn up and arms flung out to the sides; the face was contorted, jaws stretched open and eyes staring. It looked as if she had not died easily. Cindy swung around from behind Bane and caught sight, gulped and stepped back. She took a few deep breaths and folded her arms.

"Sorry. Sorry," she said. "I know I've seen my share of corpses these past few years, but I... I guess I wasn't expecting this. Poor child."

Bane did not answer for a second. "I don't think she's been here long." He knelt and pressed a finger to her cheek, then flexed her fingers. "In this heat, I'd say she's been dead less than twelve hours. Her neck is turned too far to the side for the bones to not be broken. Something nasty under her fingernails." He looked around at the muddy soil. "Footprints are a mess. Looks to me as if someone tried to obliterate the tracks by dragging something around. Not much in her pockets, no ID." He stood up and glanced at Cindy. "How are you doing?"

"Oh, I'm fine now. I was just surprised. Whew, well it looks as if there might be something to the legends of Dead End Swamp."

"Where you go in but you don't come out," Bane agreed. He went back to examining the dead girl's fingers and went to the CORBY to get a small equipment case. Carefully, he extracted samples of some dark tarry gunk from under a nail and bagged it, tucking the evidence in a side pocket. "Some kind of organic matter, decayed plant life I guess."

"I'm going to call the State Police," Cindy said. "They wanted us to look into this, we better cooperate with them as far as we can." She took out a flat metal device, thumbed a few buttons and walked away to start talking into it. As she made her report, Bane hauled their various bags and satchels into the shack. It was dank and stuffy in there, but he had certainly put up with worse. He opened the back door and the two windows to start airing it a little.

"They're on their way, Jeremy." The telepath inspected the inside of the cabin dubiously. "Maybe I'll just sleep in the pilot seat of the CORBY, hon. There's no furniture in here, unless you call that mattress on the ground and that table furniture. Ick. I can smell the mildew."

"Maybe we can settle this quickly," Bane said distractedly. He was looking out the windows to see from what angles attackers might come and how he could watch for them. His entire life had been a secret war. "We might not have to stay here at all."

"God willing! I am not excited about a week's vacation in Dead End Swamp, home of the local monster. Ugh. And that poor girl lying over there. We are going to track down whatever killed her."

A red and blue State Patrol car skidded up, followed by an ambulance. The next few minutes were almost comical as the officers and the EMTs stared at the unexpected black helicopter. No one said anything but they looked at each other uneasily. Then Bane appeared in the doorway of the shack, a dangerous-looking young man in black, with predatory grey eyes that stabbed out like weapons. He strode up to the officers and introduced himself. "Governor Healy called us here. Did you get your confirmation?"

The older trooper, a big man who looked like he was struggling to keep his weight down, scowled at the strange intruder. "Yeah, we did. He said we is supposed to let you investigate, to give you a free hand as much as possible. Mind you, that don't mean you can do whatever you want! You're a long way from home. We can handle our own affairs."

Bane did not comment on that. He turned to look over his shoulder where the EMTS were bending over the corpse. "You happen to know her?"

"As it happens, I do," said the officer. "That's little Melissa Davis. Nice girl. Her family lives a few miles closer to town, they are no trouble. Nicest colored folks you'd ever want to meet."

"And she was killed here," Bane remarked quietly. He had trouble sounding friendly. His voice and manner were naturally grim, even pugnacious. "The same place where that Collins man was killed a few months ago. Same way."

"Yes," agreed the trooper in a small voice. "Same place. Same way."

"The Swamp Man?"

"I don't like hearing that name! Look here, you government people with your fancy helicopters and official permits think you can just come down here and poke your noses in our business, then you got another think coming-"

The Dire Wolf did not want to start an argument. "We're here to help. My partner and I have had experience with this sort of thing. All we want is to protect the people in this area, and then we're out of here. Got that?" He snapped his head up, and the afternoon sunlight caught his eyes so they seemed to flash like silver.

Despite himself, the trooper stepped down. He'd been in his share of fights, going up against some big bruisers but he had never faced anything scary as this skinny Yankee boy. All the tall tales he had heard officer tell about Jeremy Bane suddenly didn't seem so far-fetched. "Well.. awright. I guess your help is welcome."

Watching this exchange, Cindy decided to step in. "Hi. Listen, we understand there have been four deaths in the past two years in this area. This will make the fifth. Another man has been missing since last winter has been presumed dead as well. Add to that the sightings of a so-called SWamp Man, and you have the makings of a national uproar. How is it that this hasn't been all the newspapers and magazines and cable news shows?"

The trooper did not quite smile at her, but he came close. Cindy was a remarkably attractive girl, as much for her easy manners as her appearance, and most men were drawn to her instantly. The officer's eyes descended to where her nipples were visible beneath the thin cotton top and he drew his gaze back up with an effort. Adding to the lure, Cindy had put just the faintest touch of a Southern accent in her voice, not overdoing it but throwing in just enough to be noticed.

"Well, little lady, you must know how it is. We're a proud sort. We like to handle our own affairs ourselves. We don't take well to outsiders. I mean, not all outsiders."

Watching with a faint hint of a smile, Bane broke in before she had him asking her out to dinner. "Excuse me. The governor's office briefed us on the deaths. We have names, dates, crosses on a map. But you must have more. Is there something you can tell us to steer us in the right direction?"

Turning away from Cindy, the trooper seemed a lot more cooperative. "Ah, yes, there is. You want to speak with the Widow Griswell. She can tell you more about this area than you might rightly want to know. Her hut's about two miles into the swamp, near a circle of dead cypress trees. Fire burning day and night, you might find her by the smoke."

Cindy cocked her head. "The Widow Griswell? Is she an expert on local history or something?"

The Trooper smiled down into her quizzical blue eyes and said, "Why, honey, she's a witch."

( the rest of the story )