Page 2 of Circle of Death
I LOOKED BACK toward the river. The water was frothing. An arm stretched out from underneath. Then another. And another! As I watched, the damned bloodsuckers rose up, spitting out water and crawling over one another to get back to the dock. They swarmed up the pilings and grabbed the thick metal cleats.
I needed a new plan. Fast.
I ran back toward the warehouses and then took off through the downtown streets. When I reached the 14th Street subway station, I headed down the steps. The station below was empty. I turned around. The filthy, dripping bloodsuckers were coming down the stairs, crowding onto the platform, pressing me toward the edge.
I backed up until my heels were overhanging the lip. Then I turned and jumped down onto the tracks. I ran into the dark tunnel that led out of the station. The mob jumped onto the tracks and came after me. I planted my feet in the middle of a wooden railroad tie between the two main rails. I could hear the howls echoing against the tile. In the tight space, the odor of all those wet bodies hit me like a wave. I grabbed a long metal bar from a service alcove. The creatures surged toward me in a single mass, ready to engulf me. At the last second, I threw the bar like a spear. Not at the mob. At the third rail.
The one carrying six hundred volts of electricity.
The charge ran up the metal bar and jumped to the soaking bloodsuckers, one after the other. I threw myself against the tunnel wall. I could hear the bodies sizzle and explode behind me. When I looked up, I saw blood and brains all over the tunnel.
I climbed out and staggered up the stairs to 14th Street. I walked back uptown, tired and numb. I remember trying to get the howls and the smells and the gore out of my head. I didn’t get home until two in the morning, and I could barely make it up the stairs.
When I walked into the bedroom, Margo was waiting.
Just like she promised.
FOUR
AS I WRAP up my story, Maddy gives me a slow clap. Maddy is nineteen—my youngest living descendant. She’s sitting on the floor in front of me. To be honest, I expected a little more excitement.
“Pretty good,” she says. “I liked the parts with Margo.”
“What about the rest?” I ask. “What aboutme?”
“To be honest,” says Maddy, “I actually preferred the book. It seemed more believable.”
Now I’m really getting annoyed. This used to happen all the time. Fans fell in love with the books and radio shows about the Shadow. But they weren’t the real thing. Not even close! Maddy, of all people, should know that by now.
“But the book is not how it happened,” I tell her. “I wasthere! I’m the Shadow, remember—therealone. Not a character some writers made up!”
Maddy’s clearly not impressed. She shrugs. “Maybe they justtoldit better.”
CHAPTER 1
MADDY’S A LOT more excited this morning. That’s because I’m making my famous banana-nut pancakes. They’re a family favorite. And the whole family is here. Maddy and my wife Margo are already sitting at the kitchen table with Maddy’s grandmother Jessica, who raised her from a baby. Bando, our Scottish terrier, is crouched at my feet, sniffing the air and pawing my leg. He can’t wait for his portion.
“That smells so good!” says Maddy. “I’mdroolingover here!”
“Be patient,” says Margo. “Perfection can’t be rushed.”
“Remember,” says Jessica, “extra nuts in mine.”
I’m watching the circles of batter in the hot skillet, waiting for the bubbles to break through the surface, watching for the perfect moment to flip. Patience is key. And Margo is right. It’s not my strong suit.
The morning sun is pouring through the windows behind me. The air is filled with the aromas of fresh coffee and sizzling butter and warm bananas. I’m thinking how much I love this room, this house, these people.
We’re all living in the mansion I built in the 1930s—back when I started my career as an investigator in New York. Before Margo and I even met. It was a big house for a bachelor, but I had the money and I liked living in style. And maybe, deep down, I knew that someday I’d be filling this place with a family. I just didn’t know it would take more than a century.
Now! The bubbles are popping. I angle my spatula and flip the pancakes one by one. I turn to see the light streaming into the kitchen. Why waste this great weather? I nod to Maddy. “Let’s have breakfast on the terrace, okay?”
Maddy grumbles a bit as she picks up the plates and flatware and carries them outside. She’s very mature in some ways, but she’s also a typical teenager. Cheery one second, grumpy the next.
I think about the changes this house has been through since I built it. About all those years it sat empty after Margo and I nearly died. About those long decades when we were both held in suspended animation—until Maddy found us and brought us back to life. By then the house was in the hands of a world dictator—who turned out to be my old enemy Shiwan Khan. Very dark days.
Khan almost killed us all, right here in this house.Myhouse! But we managed to defeat him. Me and Maddy. The girl who turned out to be my great-great-great-great-granddaughter. The girl with powers of her own—powers she’s still trying to figure out.
“Hey, chef! Watch the flapjacks!” It’s Jessica calling from the terrace.
