The Adventures of Lazarus Gray (5 page)

Vince’s eyes widened and he
reached up with both hands to clutch at his throat. He staggered
away, bumping into Coley, who was watching him with a face bleached
of all color. Vince tumbled into the railing, his momentum causing
him to flip right over it. He fell to the first floor, landing with
a sickening thud.

Pemberley reached out and
cleaned his scalpel on Coley’s lapel. "Is there anything you’d like
to say to me, Mr. Coley?"

Coley blinked, swallowing
hard. "I’m sorry?"

"Good enough for now. I
don’t brook insubordination. It makes me feel like I can’t trust
you. And we should all trust one another, shouldn’t we?"

"You bet, boss."

"Good. Now go clean up the
mess downstairs while I check in on Miss Nero."

Coley hurried away,
grateful that he wasn’t sharing his partner’s fate. Not today, at
least.

***

Samantha Grace walked
slowly toward the brownstone, her heels clicking on the
cobblestones. Morgan Watts was right behind her, his eyes glued to
the swaying motion of her hips. Though they engaged in constant
bantering, there was nothing particularly romantic about their
relationship. Morgan would certainly have been open to such a thing
but Samantha kept herself at a distance from most men and Morgan
wondered if she wasn’t secretly carrying a torch for Lazarus. He
hoped not, because he had a feeling that it would only lead to
heartache for the pretty girl.

The Chief had dispatched
the two of them out here for reasons mostly unknown to Morgan. Gray
had simply said that he needed them to check in on the place and
that he had reason to suspect that Doc Pemberley or his associates
might be making use of the residence. Morgan was familiar with the
doctor, having bumped into him on many occasions back in his
criminal days. Pemberley had been a strange sort and Morgan had
made sure to never spend too much time alone with the
man.

"Should we just give a
knock?" Samantha asked, standing outside the front door.

"How about you let me do
that and you look around the back?"

Samantha gave a pixyish
grin. "Don’t you think they’ll be more relaxed if they see me
standing here than you? Or are you just worried that little old me
is going to get hurt?"

Morgan frowned. "Quit
kidding around, would you? Pemberley’s a nasty one. If he’s hanging
around this place, we both have to be on our toes."

"Fine, Morgan. You don’t
have to be surly about it." Pouting, Samantha began moving around
the side of the house, not sparing another glance at her companion.
Morgan felt like calling after her but he held his tongue. She was
right about him not wanting her to get hurt but he didn’t want to
admit it. Besides, he reasoned, Pemberley might remember him. If he
did, then Morgan might be able to come up with some explanation for
what he was doing there. What would Samantha say? That she was
going door-to-door selling cookies?

Morgan was about to knock
on the door when he heard a loud thud come from inside the house.
It sounded like something very heavy had been tossed from one floor
to the next. He tried the door but found it locked and some sixth
sense told him that now would not be a good time to alert anyone to
his presence. Whatever had happened in there couldn’t have been a
good thing.

Taking a step back, Morgan
noticed a vine-covered trellis that led to an open second floor
window. Quickly glancing around, Morgan made a quick decision. He
tested the trellis to see if it could hold his weight and, after
deciding that it could, he threw himself into the act of climbing
up to the exposed window.

***

Around back, Samantha heard
the noise as well. She froze in place, expecting to hear a scream
or shout but when none came, she slowly slid up against the rear
door. To her pleasure, she found that it opened easily at her touch
and she stepped into the kitchen area. The place was filthy and
completely lacking a woman’s touch. The sink was piled high with
dirty dishes and flies buzzed about, landing repeatedly on a couple
of half-eaten sandwiches left on the counter.

Samantha was made of stern
stuff but she had to shove a hand over her mouth when she found the
dead body in the foyer. The man was lying face down with a rapidly
spreading pool of blood beneath him. He was quite obviously dead
but she still bent down to check for a pulse. Finding none, she
looked up and saw no signs of anyone else. Had he fallen by
accident? She tilted his head to the side and saw that wasn’t the
case. His throat had been slashed.

It was then that Coley
entered the room, a large carpet under one arm. He’d meant to roll
up his friend’s body and dump it into the trunk of his car but he
forgot all about that when he came face-to-face with the pretty
girl kneeling on the floor.

Samantha stood up quickly,
forcing a pleasant smile on her face. "Hello. The back door was
open."

Coley grimaced. He didn’t
like hurting dames but he knew that Pemberley wouldn’t be pleased
if he let the girl go. "You shouldn’t be here," he said as he
dropped the carpet to the floor and took a heavy step toward her.
"I don’t know who you are but today’s a very unlucky day,
girlie."

The big man towered over
the pretty young blonde but there was no fear in her eyes as he
approached. He lunged for her with two meaty hands extended but she
calmly grabbed hold of his wrist and twisted, using his momentum to
send him flying head over heels. He landed on his back, the air
momentarily knocked from his lungs.

Samantha pushed her
advantage, jumping into the air and landing hard on the side of his
head, the heel of her shoe connecting with his skull. He cried out
and swatted a hand toward her, making contact with the back of her
leg. His strength was enough to knock her off-balance and she had
just regained her footing when he scrambled to his feet. The spot
where she’d kicked his head was a bright crimson in color, matching
the fury that was rising in his eyes.

He snarled out a few
colorful insults but Samantha had heard worse. When he came at her
again, she noted that he was a bit more careful this time. He threw
a ham-sized fist at her head but she ducked under the blow and
threw a karate chop into his neck. She’d aimed it directly at his
windpipe and the sudden wheezing of his breath told her she’d
accomplished her goal. She then straightened and drove her knee
directly into his genitalia. The blow made him whimper and as he
doubled over, she grabbed him by the hair and shoved him toward a
marble countertop nearby. The cracking sound of skull meeting
marble was sickening and he slid to the ground, not
moving.

Samantha smoothed out her
skirt and adjusted her hair before looking up the stairs. She knew
she should check out the rest of the house but given the fact that
there was now two dead men in the foyer, it seemed prudent to allow
Morgan to accompany her. She opened the front door and was
surprised to see that her friend was absent. With a concerned look
on her face, she shut the door and contemplated what she should do
next. The sensible thing would be to exit the building and look for
Morgan.

But sensibility wasn’t
really what defined Samantha Grace.

After closing the door
again, but leaving it unlocked in case Morgan returned, she spun
about and began treading carefully up the stairs.

***

Wilma Nero sat on the edge
of her bed, feeling a mixture of satisfaction and shame. There was
a dead girl on the floor, a streetwalker that Pemberley had
procured for the purpose of feeding the creature lurking behind
Wilma’s eyes. As always, Wilma had tried to stop it from happening
but it was impossible. Her eyes had begun to glow and the girl’s
moisture had been drained right out of her. She now lay on the
floor, as leathery as an Egyptian mummy. Wilma felt a deep sense of
wholeness within her, as the monster began to slumber with its full
belly, but she also felt revulsion at what she had
become.

Pemberley had entered her
room, though she hadn’t noticed at first. When she finally looked
up at him through red-rimmed eyes, he was standing at the foot of
her bed, looking at her expectantly.

"How do you feel, my
dear?"

"Like a monster. How else
should I feel?"

"You’re not a monster.
You’re part of something beautiful and wonderful. Utterly unique in
all the world."

Wilma stood up and the
sudden motion made the thing behind her eyes begin to stir. It felt
like a troublesome tickle, she thought, and shivered at the
realization that she was getting used to its presence. "Would you
think it so wonderful if I let it feed on you, I
wonder?"

"You couldn’t stop it if
you wanted to," Pemberley answered with a sneer. "It’s the one in
control, not you. You’re nothing more than a very pretty traveling
case. That thing in your head knows that I’m the one who gave you
to it and I’m the one who can help it and its children
flourish."

Wilma looked down at her
feet. "How is my father?"

"Dead most
likely."

The callous way he said
those words hurt Wilma more than anything. It reminded her of how
he’d dealt with the death of his son. He’d been more upset at the
loss of his experiment than anything. "I’m going to kill myself,"
she whispered. "I’m going to throw myself out that open
window."

"You and I both know that’s
not true. You can’t. It won’t let you."

"What is this thing?" she
asked, reaching up to gently touch the corner of her
eye.

"I’ve explained it to you
before," Pemberley said, reaching out to take her by the shoulders.
He steered her back toward the bed and gently pushed her down until
she was seated on the mattress. "It’s a creature called an aquaas.
It’s actually a very ancient life form that was birthed out amongst
the stars. A few dozen of them fell to earth during the 19th
century, scattering all across North America. They were encased in
hard shells that resembled meteorites but it was really just
another stage of their development. They encase themselves in those
rocky exteriors to survive the rigors of space. I first learned of
them a few years ago when a man sold me several of the creatures,
still in their capsules. I cracked one open and imagine my surprise
at what I found: a tiny little monster with an insatiable desire
for the kind of moisture found only in living things. After I
witnessed its habit of burrowing behind the eyes of its
still-living victims, I came up with the idea of surgically
implanting them, making them far stronger."

"And to what purpose? Just
to show how sick human beings can be?"

Pemberley knelt in front of
her, holding her hands in his. "You’re the prototype to not only a
new form of life – a melding of human and aquaas – but also the
first of an entirely new type of soldier. Imagine a whole army of
men and women who can kill without guns or knives. All they’ll need
is their eyes."

"I think I’ve heard
enough."

Pemberley stood up quickly
and whirled about. Morgan Watts was pulling himself in through the
window, a pistol clutched tightly in his right hand. "Morgan
Watts?" Pemberley asked in shock.

"I’m flattered you remember
me, Doc."

"I remember everyone. I’m a
genius."

"And a modest one, to
boot." Morgan waved the gun at Pemberley, indicating he should step
away from Wilma. He did so and the girl looked at Morgan in
confusion. "Don’t worry, doll, I’m getting you out of here. I work
for Lazarus Gray and if there’s any man alive who can get that
thing out of your head, he’s the one."

"It seems like you have the
upper hand," Pemberley admitted. "I should warn you that I have an
armed guard outside who is twice your size and three times as
deadly."

Morgan was about to reply
when he heard a series of thumps from downstairs, followed by a
gasp that sounded disturbingly familiar. In a split-second he
realized what was happening: Samantha had managed to find her way
inside and come toe-to-toe with the guard that Pemberley had just
described.

In that moment when
Morgan’s attention was divided, Pemberley sprang toward him. The
crazed doctor batted aside the hand holding the pistol and he then
proceeded to throw a haymaker punch that caused Morgan’s entire
body to snap around. Pemberley then slammed Morgan’s head into the
wall hard enough to chip the paint.

As Morgan fell to the
floor, groaning in pain, Pemberley snatched up Wilma by the wrist,
holding it so tightly that the girl whimpered in pain. "We have to
get out of here," he hissed. "I have plans for you and I can’t
afford any of Gray’s minions getting in the way."

"Please," Wilma cried,
"just kill me! I can’t go on like this!"

Pemberley laughed then, a
maniacal sound that so frightened the girl that she fainted in his
arms. "No death for you," he hissed through grinning lips. "You
won’t be so lucky, my dear."

***

Morgan Watts felt something
cool and wet press against his forehead and he winced in pain. He
opened his eyes to find himself on a couch, Samantha perched beside
him, looking concerned. "Where’s Pemberley?" he asked, trying to
sit up but quickly laying back down when his head throbbed in
agony.