The big man wearing the dark clothes shouldered his pack and left the plane. The stewardesses, waving jauntily at the departing passengers, ignored him. He gave them a feral grin and mimed a kiss at the blond. Then he was through the door and on the exit ramp, climbing steadily to the airport beyond. He didn't expect anyone to greet him. He wasn't here to visit friends. No, this trip was about business. Somehow, the Kurgan had a second chance to win the Prize. He would not waste it.
The Kurgan made his way down to the baggage claim area, pausing only momentarily to admire the torrential rain through the huge bay windows. The weather had unsettled many of the passengers aboard the plane the Kurgan took from London to New Orleans. Humans could be so stupid about flight. Couldn't they see how simply miraculous it was that a vehicle of that size and weight could defy gravity? Could allow human beings to soar with the birds? Of course not. Humans were always too wrapped up in their own problems, crippled by fear and inadequacy.
In over three thousand years, humanity changed very little.
The Kurgan waited patiently at the baggage carousel until his heavy black case rolled into sight. He grabbed it up with one hand and brushed past two Italians waiting for their luggage. All he needed to do now was breeze through customs. He didn't anticipate trouble with the case and its precious cargo. Either the cash in his pocket or the Quickening in his veins would enable him to smuggle his broadsword into America.
As he stepped into line, the Kurgan felt the subtle thrill of the Buzz work its way up his spine. There was prey about. He tried to examine the area around him unobtrusively, tried to pinpoint the source of the Buzz.
He was almost to the inspector when he caught sight of the other Immortal. It was a man, short, dark skinned, with a short mop of black hair kept pulled back from the face with a leather cord. The clothes were simple, made of homespun wool most likely. The Immortal's only jewelry was a golden amulet hanging from his neck. His only bag was far too small to conceal a weapon of any kind.
The Kurgan's blood turned to ice when he recognized the other Immortal. It took him a moment to realize that the other man could not sense him. Nyarlathotep had promised the Kurgan certain "improvements" as the Egyptian called them, but never in his wildest dreams did the Kurgan guess his Quickening would be masked from other Immortals.
Perhaps it had not been coincidence that he had surprised Methos and his friends on that barge in Paris. Whatever the case, Viracocha had come down from the mountain. And the Kurgan had the drop on him.
Methos might have eluded the Kurgan, but the oldest living Immortal had dropped into his lap. Viracocha would not escape. And when the Kurgan possessed the power of the Child of the Sun...
Suddenly the Kurgan smiled with a shark's joy.
Chaos. Utter chaos.
Hazard watched as the Scarecrow and the Fool dropped into the theater, accompanied by bits of colored glass that seemed to fall in slow motion. He saw the Vampires gathered there pounce on the two supernaturals and attack, swarming over them like piranha scenting blood. He heard the tinkle of the glass as it shattered on the ground. And Hazard saw the Scarecrow and the Fool respond.
The Scarecrow whipped his cloak behind him and reached out with his spindly arms, grabbing a Vampire with either hand. With a twist, snapped necks, and before the Vampires could recover, he sucked up their souls. A slight spark flashed between Vampire flesh and the leather glove of the Scarecrow's fist, and just for a moment, the empty sockets of the Scarecrow would glow with malevolent light. The Vampires' superior numbers did not matter. They might tear at his clothing or pull out a few pieces of straw, but they could only pluck at him like children at their mother's skirts. The Scarecrow could destroy a Vampire with a single blow.
The Undead fared just as well against the Fool. Their claws cut at him, and he laughed, for no blood spilled free. They tried to bite him, but their fangs shattered against his flesh. The Fool's body was white like marble, and harder as well. His fists smashed even Undead flesh to pulp, crippling the Vampires who came too close. And though their regenerative abilities would soon have them up again, the Fool's strength could shatter chairs into shards or stakes. And with these, the dark clown slew Vampire after Vampire.
Paul Gold was ten steps away from Hazard, and Gold snarled at him while his slashed throat spilled blood onto his three piece suit. A few drops of Gold's blood still clinged to Hazard's claws. He resisted the urge to lick it off.
Gold's throat closed up and he found his voice again. "You are mad, Michael," he hissed. As he spoke, the full force of his Vampiric nature crept over his features, bit by bit. The red eyes blazed, the brows drew together, the mouth split open revealing the enlarged canines. "You distracted me, and allowed those two despicable creatures to invade my sanctum. I may not have the strength to defeat them, but I shall make you pay!"
Gold flew towards Hazard with the speed only a Vampire could muster; he flashed forward faster than a mortal eye could follow.
For Hazard, it was no trouble. He reacted just as swiftly, and maneuvered to block Gold's assault. Hazard caught Gold's wrists and clamped down on them with a vise like grip. A head butt hammered Gold's face backward, keeping his snapping jaws away from Hazard's flesh. Hazard wished for a moment that he could finish Gold off here and now. But the stakes, at this stage of the game, were simply too high. Gold was worth more as an ally than a destroyed enemy.
"Use your head, Paul," Hazard urged, flexing his Will as he did so, trying to calm Gold down. It was a mostly useless gesture, as Gold's shields would be too powerful for even Hazard to penetrate. It was worth a shot, however. "Do you really think I would side with Mephisto's creatures?" Hazard continued. "And doesn't the simple fact that they are awake suggest that what I told you might be true? Think, damn you! Don't just react like the reptile you are!"
Gold's eyes blazed, and he broke away from Hazard's grip. He did not press the attack, however. He stepped back, eyeing Hazard warily. Then he looked at the scene of carnage in the midst of the theater. Gold sighed. "Hazard, I have always hated you," he said.
Most of Gold's brood lay in heaps on the floor. A few of the more intelligent creatures had fled already. Soon the Scarecrow and the Fool would turn their attentions to the older Vampires.
Gold spoke again. "The Fool has not yet unleashed its magic. That is good. But I do not wish to be here when it does." He looked at Hazard then, and Hazard was surprised to see something akin to real grief in Gold's eyes. "There is a back way out of here," Gold said. He leapt over the orchestra pit and landed in the middle of the stage. At once he was off, heading for the dark recess of the theater. Hazard followed.
Hazard almost lost track of the other Vampire in the maze of stage equipment, costumes, and other odds and ends strewn about backstage. His sharp ears detected Gold's soft footfalls, however, and Hazard was able to stay right behind him. In moments, Gold found the back door and threw it open, and the two Vampires spilled out into the night.
"Fuck," Gold muttered, as he dropped into the alley behind the theater. The rainwater here had flowed into a foot deep pool, and Gold appeared mildly annoyed that his shoes were ruined. Hazard just chuckled softly at his enemies misfortune, and splashed through the water in his ratty sneakers.
"We'll take my car," Hazard said.
"What do you mean 'we,' Hazard?" Gold demanded. "I still haven't any reason to trust you."
Hazard shook his dark mane. "The world is going to shit, Gold. And my friends and I are the only ones who will be able to stop it. You're better off helping us. And...," this would hurt, but it was true, "...we need your help. Frankly, we need all the help we can get."
Gold removed his glasses, as rain began to splash across them affecting his vision. He slipped them into a coat pocket. "In one breath you tell me that only your friends can stop this so called 'apocalypse,' and in the next you tell me they cannot. Which is it, Hazard? Are you and your allies saviors or victims?"
<Probably a little bit of both,> Hazard thought. Aloud, he said, "The truth is, we're not quite strong enough yet. But we're the only ones here, in place, to face what's coming. And the thing headed our way is terrible; we have to stack the deck in our favor. Adding you to the team may be overkill, but it seems a safer bet."
"And what is coming, Michael? You mentioned one of the Great Old Ones. But that isn't possible."
Hazard gritted his teeth, and for a moment he wondered what the Scarecrow and his companion were doing inside the theater. "It is possible. look at the signs, Gold. The Scarecrow and the Fool are loose. The weather has been out of control for weeks. There is a supernatural war going on in our downtown. Even ordinary humans are committing atrocities that they usually balk at."
"This city is coming apart at the seams, Gold. And when the Elder God arrives, it will completely fall apart. All your plans will dissipate like smoke. You and whatever members of your coven survive will be reduced to bloody smears by the Old One. It won't leave anything on Earth alive or undead. It will destroy everything in its path."
"You're sure of this?" Gold asked. "The Elder Gods are inscrutable. Perhaps this Old One of yours will manifest itself above New Orleans, use its powers to absorb all the chocolate on Earth, and disappear."
Hazard looked at Gold for a moment. "Do you really believe that?"
Gold shook his head. "Not for a second." The old Vampire sighed, and his gaze fell on the cracked and weathered back wall of his theater. Hazard waited, not speaking. He resisted the urge to run back inside and try to decipher what the Scarecrow and Fool were doing. At last, Gold's eyes met Hazard's. "All right Michael. You have yourself an ally. For now."
Hazard nodded. Then he and Paul Gold fled the ally. They found Hazard's car, and left Gold's home behind.
Inside the theater, the Scarecrow and the Fool finished with the last of the Vampires. Surrounded by bodies, they stood in the middle of the carnage, examining the building.
"Wonderful architecture," the Fool mused, while stepping over a staked Vampire. "Late eighteenth century, I think. Hmmm. I think I may have performed here once." The clown hopped up onto the back of a seat, pirouetted gracefully on his toes, and then leapt onto another seat.
The Scarecrow grumbled. "There were two other Vampires here. They have fled."
"So? The extermination of the vermin is not our reason for coming to this ghastly place. Think of it as one of those fringe benefits."
The Scarecrow glowered balefully at the gaily painted clown. "My dear, allowing any of our enemies escape our wrath is simply unsound strategy. Besides," he added thoughtfully," one of them looked familiar."
"What?" the Fool cried. "You're upset about two Vampires running because one of them reminds you of your Aunt Gracie? Preposterous!"
The Scarecrow shook his leather head, rustling the corn stalks that served as his hair. "No, I am certain I faced one of them in combat. But that was some time ago."
The Fool frowned. "Lets just get on with business, darling."
"Aye," the Scarecrow agreed. He, too, leapt up onto the back of a chair, and began to make his way across the seats to the stage. Behind him, the Fool chanted some odd syllables, and a fan of flame leapt out from his palms, smashing into the prostrate Vampire bodies. The corpses exploded in a shower of sparks and flesh, and the chairs around them burst into flame as well.
"Hurry up, darling!" the Fool cried. "We haven't much time before this entire structure comes apart."
The Scarecrow nodded, though the clown couldn't possibly make out the curt gesture. He tried to ignore the rising wall of flames behind him, but somewhere deep inside a cry of fear welled up. The Scarecrow refused to give it voice, however. He tried to reassure himself that the enchantments of Mephistopheles would keep him safe from the killing flames.
He felt the heat push against his back, and hurried to reach the stage. The Scarecrow leapt up onto the stage and made his way to the center of the structure, to the trapdoor in the floor that led into the bowels of the stage. To the place that some theater people had come to call "hell." How apt, in this case.
The Scarecrow brought his heel down on the trapdoor and shattered it into a dozen pieces. He stepped forward and dropped into the abyss. He fell ten feet, his straw feet slapping down hard on the concrete floor, his knees bending only slightly. He flipped his cloak over his shoulder, and strode purposely forward, his orange eyes burning like flames in his dark sockets. The Scarecrow examined every crate, box, or trunk that lay in the room, ripping them open one by one.
The Fool poked his head down the hole in the floor. His teeth glinted like pearls in the light from the blaze. "Hurry up, my sweet. We're running out of time."
The Scarecrow grunted, and tried not to think of the fires above, slowly devouring the building. And then -- the Scarecrow's fingers dug into the last of the large wooden crates, ripping boards apart like tissue paper. The interior was packed tight with straw, but at a word from the Scarecrow, all of the packing material flew out of the crate in a flashing cloud of yellow, brittle strands.
Inside the crate lay a massive stone statue. The statue was generally man shaped, but almost twice as large as a man. Its features were rough, as if the artist who carved the great block of stone had not been able to finish. The face was a square block, with a barely defined projection for a nose, and a small indentation indicating a mouth. The eyes were two shallow grooves, while the rest of the skull was smooth.
The Scarecrow reached out a tentative hand and caressed the brow of the giant, his leather gloves scraping against the hard surface. The Scarecrow stepped back, raising his palms in the air. His cloak flapped, though there was no wind. He gathered his power into himself, deep, and then unleashed it in a flash of blue white electricity from his hands.
The light flew from his palms and slammed into the statue, playing over the length of the construct and sinking into its stony hide. When the light died, the Scarecrow scurried further back, and waited for the show to begin.
Tiny cracks appeared in the surface of the statue. Flakes of stone broke off and fell away, clicking on the hard floor. Larger cracks opened up on the statue, and the whole figure began to rattle. A low moan shuddered free from nowhere, and large blocks of stone shattered free from the statue. At last, the stone exploded in a shower of rock, clattering against the Scarecrow, the concrete floor, and the other crates.
A cloud of dust hung in the air, and as it slowly cleared, the figure of a man came into sight -- a man of gigantic stature, who seemed carved from marble like Greek god. His form was smooth and beautiful, and as the flames licked across the ceiling, they gave his gray skin an orange glow. The heavy eyelids flickered open, revealing opaque yellow eyes that seemed to glow with their own intensity. The figure shifted into a sitting position, and then, gradually, drew itself to its feet.
"Welcome back, Gohlem," the Scarecrow rasped.
Hazard was more than a little disconcerted to discover Kurt's home was a gutted wreck. While Hazard had slept, some one of their many enemies had struck. Kurt's home was destroyed, ripped apart, and set afire. Hopefully Kurt escaped.
Hazard watched the firemen scurry back and forth between the house and their trucks, aiming their hoses into the remnants of the burning house. Their efforts were hardly needed. While the rain had finally halted, the downpour from earlier in the evening had served to deal with the worst of the fire. The firemen dealt with the last few bits of flaming wood.
A heavy cloud of smoke obscured much of the action, and Hazard had to use all seven of his Vampiric senses to decipher what little he could out of the occurrence. He waited in the Lotus, with Gold sitting quietly beside him. The other Vampire lay his head against the back of the seat with his eyes closed and his lips pursed in a silent whistle. Hazard wanted to hit him. He felt on edge. Worry gnawed at his normally phlegmatic psyche. He feared that his friends had faced the worst the enemy had to offer while he slumbered, faced it alone and lost. If he had been there...
When the firemen pulled the first body from the wreckage, Hazard flinched. So. Kurt was dead. A crimson tear fell from the corner of Hazard's eye, and he brushed it away. He could not afford grief. A second body was found, and Hazard felt like someone had driven a sword into his bowels, twisting it with savage glee. He failed to stop the tears this time.
He couldn't allow himself to see anymore. He started the car, and pulled out into the road, executing a three point turn. He drove away from Kurt's home as quickly as he could. Beside him, Gold remained quiet. Damn him.
Perseus' house was quiet, but whole. Hazard felt a little better. Maybe Bran had survived, at least. If the Celt was alive, there might still be a chance to win. He parked the Lotus in the drive and slipped out of the car. Gold finally moved, following suit. Noticing that the rain had stopped, he produced his gold-rimmed glasses and put them on.
Hazard felt stiff, as if the crushing weight of his seven hundred years had finally caught up with him. He wasn't sure how he could tell Bran what he had learned tonight. The Scarecrow and the Fool, together again after all this time. Kurt... dead. Hazard choked back his grief, and pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket to dry his pale face.
Gold observed him calmly. "There are a number of bleeders moving about inside."
Hazard nodded. "I can sense them, too, Gold." He forced himself to focus. <Hold it together, Jansip. Don't give in to the Dark Side.> He left the car and took the steps up onto the porch, trying in vain to keep a spring in his step. He heard Gold follow him.
The front door was locked; no bother, as Hazard had the key. He slipped it into the lock and pushed the door open. He stepped into the hall, and caught a scent that drew him up short. "It can't be...," he muttered, and then a wide grin split his face. He flew through the house with Vampiric speed, leaving Gold alone at the front door.
Hazard burst into the drawing room. Bran, Selura, Alec, Rachel, and yes, Kurt, looked up sharply when he appeared in the doorway. Bran lounged against the back of a sofa, a concerned look on his face. His long red hair was tied back into two braids that spilled down his back, and he was wearing his black biker leathers. The sword leaned against the wall, where Bran could grab it easily.
Rachel sat on the sofa, a blanket wrapped around her, and a mug of steaming coffee cupped in her hands. Her hair was soaked, and plastered to her skull. She looked pale and shaken, but her blue eyes held a quiet anger.
Selura was sitting on the sofa beside Rachel. When had she arrived in New Orleans? No matter, really. The more the merrier. She looked as beautiful as ever. Her blond hair was cut short, and her crystalline eyes looked tired, but she appeared tanned and healthy. Australia, it seemed, had done her some good.
Alec looked sullen and morose where he leaned against the window sill. His leather jacket was gone, and his dark shirt and jeans looked singed. It looked like there was a hole in his chest. But that was impossible; Wraith's never stayed hurt for long. Perhaps it was the wound that killed him, Hazard mused. His hair was tied back into a severe ponytail, leaving his broad, pale forehead to reflect the lamplight. His ever-present pistols were thrust into his belt, while the spider perched on his shoulder, chittering into Alec's ear.
Kurt looked haggard and weary, but alive and breathing. His clothes were soaked, and his dark hair was slicked back, but he grinned good humoredly at Hazard, while the hoop in his ear caught the light and glinted.
"Glad you could make it, Mike," Kurt said.
"So am I. What happened to you? Your house was demolished!"
"The Carnifexi surprised me. We barely escaped with our lives," Kurt said, gesturing at Alec and Rachel. "Luckily, the Spider here managed to discover the Killing Ones' secrets."
<The Carnifexi?> Hazard thought. His mind raced. That might explain the presence of the Scarecrow and the Fool.
"What secret?" Hazard asked.
Kurt looked over at Alec. The boy looked uncomfortable, and shifted on his feet. <You would think the headmaster had called on him to recite before the entire class,> Hazard thought.
"The.. Carnifexi," Alec stumbled over the word, "were immune to magic and mind control. Which made them dangerous to all of you. But they weren't immune to good old-fashioned human ingenuity." Alec paused. "We blew them up."
Hazard looked at him blankly. <Blew...up?> he wondered.
Just then, Gold appeared behind Hazard. "Good evening, all. It appears your grief was unnecessary, Michael," he announced matter-of-factly.
Hazard turned as Kurt leapt to his feet. Out of the corner of his eye, Hazard saw Bran lean toward his blade. Selura looked like she might produce that damn claymore of hers as well. Alec, suddenly aware of the tension in the room, dropped his hands to his pistols.
"Everyone relax," Hazard urged. "Paul is here on my invitation."
"What?" Kurt barked. "We may be desperate, Mike, but we're not that desperate."
Gold looked Kurt in the eyes. "No?" he asked. "Michael seems to think so. And I agree with him." Gold's crimson eyes swept the room. "With the Scarecrow and the Fool loose, you'll need all the help you can get."
Hazard closed his eyes. <Damn him,> he thought. <I wanted to break the news gently.>
Bran rocked back on his heels, while Selura instantly paled. Kurt sat down again, his legs suddenly not strong enough to keep him up. Rachel looked at their reactions and frowned. Alec glowered.
The Wraith broke the silence. "And is the Tin Man going to try and kill us too?" he asked.
Bran shook his shaggy head. "The Scarecrow and the Fool are one half of the most deadly force on Earth," he said. "They haven't worked together in many centuries." He was about to continue, but the Wraith cut him off, turning to Kurt with an accusatory glare.
"Let me guess -- more creations of Mephistopheles, right?" at Kurt's sharp nod, Alec went on. "I think its about time you fucking bastards filled me and Rachel in on all your ancient alliances and bullshit. I'm really getting sick of being left in the dark all the goddam time."
Kurt dropped his head into his palms for a moment. When he looked up, his eyes looked old. "All right," he said slowly.
Hazard looked at the Wraith, and then noticed, behind him, through the window, the precipitation had begun again. It took Hazard a moment to realize that it was not rain falling from the sky.
Snow.
In New Orleans.
"Its snowing," Hazard said. Everyone turned to look out the window.
"Mother of God," Selura muttered in astonishment.
Just as this new development began to sink in, Bran and Selura suddenly tensed. Bran's sword was in his hand in a flash, and Selura reached below the sofa to drag out her claymore. She slowly stood.
Hazard heard the front door open, and slam shut. Hazard knew what would come next. He grabbed Gold and pulled him into the room, crossing to stand beside the Wraith. "Don't be afraid to be free with those cap pistols of yours," Hazard said. Alec looked at him with a furrowed brow. "Immortals are coming," Hazard explained.
Bran and Selura both stepped forward, into the middle of the room, their blades extended. Kurt, granted a reprieve from Alec's questions, shifted into his Morphus. Rachel wound the blanket tighter around herself, as if that could protect her.
Hazard caught a whiff of smoke.
Perseus stepped into the doorway, a freshly lit cigarette dangling from his lips. He scowled. "What the hell are you all doing in my home?"
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