Gaslight Grimoire_ Fantastic Tales of Sherlock Holmes - Barbara Hambly [123]
The old man bowed slightly, steadying himself on his cane. “Count,” he said. “Journeys end in lovers meeting, as they say in the old play. I am happy to see that your flair for the dramatic has not deserted you.”
“You!” he hissed. He had a heavy Romanian accent, like the bad guy in a spy picture. His voice was deep and seemed to echo, like he was speaking from a tunnel. “You’re still alive!”
“Surely longevity is nothing to surprise you. It is indeed disagreeable to find you here, in the United States. The California climate has nothing to recommend it. What do you want here?”
The red eyes turned to me. “Who is he?”
“Fresh blood, if you’ll pardon the expression,” the old man answered. “Now, I believe I asked a question of you.”
The man in black turned away from me. “I’ve come to help.”
The old man blinked, surprised. “I beg your pardon?”
The man in black took a step closer. “I escaped from Europe as soon as I could. I could not stand idly by while that maniac destroyed the country I had lived and died for. But the forces of darkness are sometimes too much, even for the Prince of Darkness Himself. So, I have come to offer my services to the Allies.”
“And what would those services be?” the old man asked.
“An army. An army of my kind, led by me, their king! We would be invincible. With sword and mace we would sweep over the Continent and take back what was once ours. We could form an alliance, your kind and mine, the warm and the cold. It would be sweet, yes? The blood would run in the gutters and the world would be safe again, yes, safe for the strong and for those willing to sacrifice. The time has come … to fight back with claw and fang!”
The old man was silent as he thought. “How many like you are there in the United States?”
“I am not a butcher,” the man in black said, “despite what the Dutch doctor and the others claimed. I took Landau because I had to. You … put him at permanent rest?”
“Yes.” Then the old man turned to me. “Mad as a hatter, you know. Is it your experience, too, that once you get them talking, it’s obvious that they are insane? Oh, forgive me, Count. You’d expect greater respect for a royal personage from one raised under Victoria, I’m sure, but the world is changing rapidly. Too rapidly, I think, for the likes of you to find any place in it. I’m afraid that your little American adventure must end here.”
I didn’t wait for instructions. I rammed my shoulder into the man in black and he staggered into his upright box, both of them thundering to the floor. Then I pivoted, grabbed a corner of a whole stack of coffin-shaped boxes and pitched them onto him.
“What the devil are you doing?” the old man asked, his voice high.
“Trying to stay alive.” Landau had taken six of my bullets, whatever he was. And the man in black had turned Landau into that thing, so I was dangerously outclassed. I’d have to keep him off balance if I was going to find a way to take him out.
But he didn’t stay down long. The was a cracking sound, and I saw the man in black chopping his way out of the boxes with the edge of his hand. The hard wood cracked apart like toothpicks.
“Perhaps it’s time you shot him, too?” the old man said.
The man in black had just made it to his feet when I pulled my gun and emptied it into him. Unlike Landau, he wasn’t knocked back at impact. Instead, he just stood there, glaring at me.
“Now hit him with something else,” the old man suggested.
Some of the boxes that landed on him were now badly splintered. I grabbed a loose board and held it like a baseball bat. The man in black inched closer and I smacked him hard on the side of the head. He didn’t even wince. I reared back and brought the wood down again, but he stopped it in midair with one hand and held it tight. Then he pulled it closer to him and I dragged along with it. We were torso to torso, and I could see his