Louie Lue, Occult Detective

Death Written in Hanzi

by CSyphrett

As museum curator Jackie Lue arrives in Honolulu from Hong Kong for his first vacation in years, he expects to have a nice, quiet vacation visiting his grandfather. But when that grandfather is the famous occult detective Louie Lue, can there be any relaxation involved? Unfortunately for the young martial arts master and his mystically endowed grandfather, the Tiger Demon cult has other plans for him!

• Chapter 1: The Tiger Demon Cult

• Chapter 2: The Yaoguai

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Grandfather and grandson walked out of the small place. Louie Lue locked the building up from any intrusion with a key and a set of mystical symbols hastily drawn on the door.

“Backseat, please,” said the spokesman for the Tiger Demons, gesturing with a hand. Louie and Jackie Lue were sandwiched between two of the large men as others piled in the front. The cars pulled away from the curb, heading away from Chinatown on the streets of tropical Honolulu.

“So much for a vacation,” Jackie complained, holding his head on his hands.

“As soon as we find out what is going on, will show you sights,” said Lue so confidently that the Tiger Demons could not even smirk at the remark.

Louie Lue had built his reputation in the Chinatown of Honolulu by accomplishing the impossible and making it look simple and easy. All of these men were aware that, at any time, they would have to fight for their lives, and they watched him with great caution.

The two cars rolled away from the city down the highway, passing Pearl City and then heading north through the valley between the volcanic mountains looming overhead. They arrived at the north shore of Oahu within an hour. The ride had been silent for the men after Jackie’s complaint. It would be up to the master to explain why they had been brought before the judgment of the Tigers.

The cars pulled to a stop in a farmyard outside of the small village of Kahuku. The men piled out, stretching their limbs to restore circulation. The farmhouse beckoned Lue and Jackie forward, and the Tigers formed a crescent behind the two to show their caution and respect. The Tiger Demons had no doubt the two would meet a final end at the hands of the cult’s deadly master.

Louie Lue led the way, pulling aside the outer screen door and opening the wooden door. He stepped inside, Jackie at his back. The inside walls had been knocked down so that one room was left in the house. Heavy curtains draped the walls with painted tigers prowling imaginary jungles. A lit brazier provided smokey light to see by. A very thin Oriental man sat beside the brazier, breathing in the thick, sweet scent that filled the air.

“Ah, Lue,” said the man, eyes bright with an inner light. “I had hoped to avoid your attention for many more years, but alas, it was not to be. I am Hu Mo, the master of ceremonies for the movement.”

“Hu Mo?” said Lue, hiding caution behind a veil of irritation. “You could not come up with better alias? Is not very original.”

“My nom de guerre is not important,” said the Tiger Demon. “All that matters is that your grandson has touched the statue of a yaoguai and has awakened the demon within. I mean to use that connection to draw the demon here so that I might use it as I will.”

“You do not want much,” said Lue. “What happen to number one grandson when this over?”

“He is free to go when the ceremony is done and the yaoguai is ready to be used by me,” said Hu Mo, smiling slightly. “Otherwise it will follow until it catches him and then disposes of him. When that is done, its brothers will awaken and begin their assault on humanity, destroying any who oppose them. I am sure you know this already.”

“What are you saying?” said Jackie, visibly shaken. “Some demon is coming here to kill me, and you want to use me as bait to trap it? Are you insane? I’m not doing that!”

***

Jackie Lue awoke about an hour later, judging by the cramps in his chained arms and legs. Small cuts littered his face and hands where he had hit the floor in uncontrollable spasms.

“Next time lamentable magician and leader of dangerous cult wants to use you as bait,” said Louie Lue from somewhere close by, “go along with him until you can escape.”

“I am sorry, Grandfather,” said Jackie, unable to move except to squirm slightly against the rough floor. “What do we do now?”

“Wait for demon to arrive to possess your body,” Lue said. “Hope for chance to escape before they know what is happening.”

Jackie hung his head glumly. He was bound tight in his cocoon of metal. He would be of little use if anything was required of him.

Some time later, Hu Mo and a circle of cultists appeared. The Tiger Demons silently lifted Jackie on their shoulders and took him out of the storage room. “We shall return for you when the ceremony is over,” Hu Mo assured the occult detective, checking the wards on the chains holding Lue in place. “Your grandson will be a changed man.”

“That is what I am afraid of,” said Lue quietly. Hu Mo laughed pleasantly as he left the old man to ponder his fate. He would not have laughed so loud if he had known Lue had devised a plan to rescue himself and Jackie from harm and was already carrying it out.

Louie Lue could not work any of his own magic while enchained, but that did not stop him from applying the practical skills he had learned in his younger days as a Honolulu police officer. Working a piece of metal out of his pocket and managing to get his hands in position, he picked the lock as fast as his awkward position would allow. The chains fell noisily away as he stood up.

The door opened as his guard checked on the ruckus he had caused. Lue demonstrated that Jackie wasn’t the only one who knew a martial art by kicking the man’s jaw out of alignment. The occult detective grabbed the guard and dragged him into the cell. The old man adjusted his white derby and straightened the tie of his white suit as he walked to the site of the ceremony. It was time to stop this nonsense once and for all.

The famous detective paused at the door, locking a Tiger Demon in a stranglehold to gain some bit of surprise. He laid the man on the floor, deciding his next step. The ceremony was underway, and Lue knew he didn’t have long.

Lue wrote two symbols on his hand. One of the symbols glowed against his skin, and he faded out of sight. He worked his way through the crowd, trying to avoid a touch that would alert his enemy to his presence. He reached the stone table that had been set up to hold Jackie for his sacrifice to the demon tiger.

The occult detective wrote on the lock with a fingertip, and the chains immediately loosened around Jackie, who began to work his way slowly out of his bondage. Lue stepped away from the altar after writing two more symbols on Jackie’s arm. There was nothing to do now but wait. His trap was set, and he had only to wait for his fish to bite. It wouldn’t be long.

A shadow took form, growing into a large, furred humanoid with a tiger’s head on a large muscular body. It was a yaoguai, a Chinese demon, and it regarded the crowd suspiciously as it approached the wiggling Jackie Lue. Hu Mo held up his hands, prepared to execute his spell. He was not prepared for Jackie to jump to his feet, shedding his chains like water. Lue’s number one grandson leaped from the table, kicking the ghost back through the wall. Jackie landed lightly, smashing the edge of his hand against the nose of a man who had tried to make a grab of the martial artist.

“Lue!” roared the angry Hu Mo. “What do you think you are doing?”

“Don’t worry about my grandfather,” said Jackie, face settled in hard lines, twisting his head with the sound of crackling from his neck. “He’s not the one who’s going to hurt you.”

The first man to rush Jackie as he advanced on Hu Mo got a length of chain around his wrist and was thrown across the table. The second just got the end of the improvised whip across his face from a backlash. The Tiger went down in a heap.

The demon cycled back through the wall, roaring silently in displeasure. A cultist got in its way and received a claw in his back, smashing him across the floor. The other men backed up out of the way.

Jackie dropped the chain as the yaoguai roared down on him. He vaulted the table, kicking the fallen Tiger in the face as he passed. The demon bounded through the dark stone, impervious to normal substances.

“Stop!” roared Hu Mo as Jackie ran toward him. “I said stop!”

“Why don’t you stop?” Jackie said, then ran around the cult leader, putting the man between him and the demon. Hu Mo cursed as he blocked the first two claw strikes with his forearms. Then a jump kick to his back sent him and the demon to the floor, the yaoguai sinking below the surface of the floor as it skidded along.

“What just happened?” Jackie and Lue said to themselves.

Hu Mo clambered to his feet, holding the yaoguai by its neck. “That’s the one I want you to get,” he said, pointing at Jackie. “That’s your body, stupid.” Hu Mo flung the demon at Jackie.

The young martial artist fell on his back, foot extended in a monkey flip. The yaoguai flew over Jackie and crashed into the floor, but Jackie used the rebound from the throw to flip to his feet and spun, sinking into his stance, ready to continue fighting.

None of the Tiger Demons wanted to get close to the fight going on in the center of the room. Only when Hu Mo ordered it did the men unwillingly approach. They were no match for the two combatants exchanging blows.

Louie Lue invisibly approached the fuming Hu Mo and wrote a symbol on his back. Mist enveloped the cult leader head to foot. When it cleared, an orange-yellow humanoid with a dark orange face stood there with a wide mouth and very large ears. A mop of gray brown hair perched atop its head.

“My disguise!” said Hu Mo, holding up his wide arms. “What happened to my disguise?”

Lue leaped into the air, his invisibility lost by going on the offense. He spun in place, extending his leg out. His foot smashed into the enraged Hu Mo, sending him in a stagger. Lue landed lightly as his opponent tried to shrug off the blow.

The Tiger Demons, trying to halt Jackie long enough for him to be held for his possession, found themselves chasing a dervish as he dodged their attacks, redirecting them into the path of the demon tiger who cut them down with its massive claws hooked on the end of its long arms. The cultists were unable to stop themselves from obeying the command of Hu Mo as they kept trying to stop Jackie until they were knocked down senseless.

On the other side of the room, Hu Mo and Lue exchanged a flurry of punches, blocks, and counterpunches to determine whose magic would hold the field. The famous detective knew his human stamina would never keep up with his demonic foe. He needed a trick to win.

He cast his eyes about until he saw a clay jar on the floor in the corner. He retreated in that direction until the jar was at his feet. He ducked a hammering right, snatching the jar up. Straightening, he dropped the open mouth of the jar over Hu Mo’s head. He wrote on the bottom with his finger before the Tiger Demon could stop him. Instantly, the demon was sucked into the old container. Lue clapped the lid on the trap and sealed it with another symbol.

Louie Lue’s move freed the cultists from their leader’s commands. Those that could fled from the house, leaving Jackie and the yaoguai to finish their own fight. The occult detective had his own ideas about what the outcome should be. Lue looked for another container and found a tea pot. He wrote on it hastily as he prepared to execute his plan.

The old man held the tea pot in one hand and the lid in the other, then walked over to the fight. He ignored the shouts of outrage from the jar as he considered his next move. “Number one grandson!” he called, waving the pot.

Both combatants turned on Lue. The yaoguai rushed at him, aware that the pot was some kind of container. Jackie took three steps, jumped on the stone table, and then sailed through the air in a kick that sent both of them down to the ground. The young man rolled away from the demon as it tried to draw an X on his chest, but dust from the floor was the only reward for the thing’s attempt.

The yaoguai bounded to its feet as Jackie backed away on his hands and feet. It roared as it drew back its claws to deal with its suddenly helpless prey. It brought down the killing blow as the tea pot landed in Jackie’s fumbling hands. It tried to stop itself, but its hand went into the top of the pot and kept going. All was blackness and constraint for it as it roared in disapproval and anger, while Lue applied seals on it to keep it trapped.

***

Louie Lue placed the jar and tea pot in a small vault in the basement below his shop. He withdrew, happy the Tiger Demons were no longer a threat to his beloved Chinatown, and locked the door to the basement as he left.

“This is the life,” said Jackie Lue, laying on a couch in his grandfather’s home above the shop, watching a basketball game on television. “Thank you for letting me stay here for my vacation.”

“No problem,” said Lue, going to his small refrigerator and pulling out a soda. He watched a player sink a jump shot from the three point line, listening to commentary by Dick Vitale. “You want to take tour tomorrow?”

“Sure,” said Jackie, going and grabbing a soda for himself as the game was replaced by a commercial. “But what about your business?”

“Think I can take small vacation without problem,” said Louie Lue, sipping at his soda.

The front door banged open with the clatter of the bell. Lue and Jackie ran down to see what was wrong. A man stood in the shop clutching an emerald, bandages covering his face.

“Louie Lue?” he gasped out. “You have to help me break the curse of Killarney.”

Grandfather and grandson exchanged a glance. “Tell me everything,” said the world-famous occult detective, a small smile on his face.

The End

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Louie Lue waited patiently at the Honolulu International Airport for his grandson due in from Hong Kong. He was a bespectacled old man in his early eighties who had a thin white mustache and goatee, and he wore a white suit with a white derby hat.

The former police inspector, who was now a private investigator, had not seen some of his relatives in a few years. Lue’s duties as a detective specializing only in strange and weird cases that other detectives avoided had kept him busy despite his age, solving cases not only here in Hawaii but all over the world. He briefly wondered what his oldest grandson Jackie would be like now that he was all grown up. The young man had been raised in Hong Kong but educated in the United States, and Jackie’s father Lee was born and raised in Hawaii and spoke English better than the old man ever had. Louie Lue had heard that the boy had begun probing into strange places. Lee Lue — his number one son – had written him about a problem that only the elder Lue could deal with.

The famous Chinese-born Hawaiian detective had not liked the sound of that. After retiring from the police department in the late 1950s, he had begun investigating ancient forces that were beyond the knowledge of most people. He had learned much about those forces since then, establishing a reputation for himself as an occult detective. If Jackie had been noticed by such forces, the problem could either be very huge or merely tiny. It all depended on exactly what was involved in the struggle. Lue hoped it was something tiny this time.

His last case had been a haunting that had nearly dropped the building down on him. He wanted a case where he could just say nothing would happen, rather than something such as a fight to the finish with the demon hosts of the Yama Kings. Lue looked around the waiting room, having a peculiar feeling that things were about to move beyond his control despite all his efforts. Still, he looked forward to the challenge.

Louie Lue smiled as he saw his grandson walk out of Customs and strolled over to meet the younger man. Instead, two other men rushed over first, cutting the occult detective off from his relative. Lue frowned as the two men grabbed Jackie under his arms, picking him off the floor. The young man began to question the men loudly. Several others surrounded the struggling men in a circle of protection from the other passengers.

Jackie Lue spun himself head over heels in the grip of his assailants, breaking free of their hold as he landed. Then he jumped up, spinning in place, his elbows giving him all the room he needed. Lue smiled as he quietly stepped forward, while his fingers wrote a symbol — a single Chinese character, or hanzi – in the air. One of Jackie’s captors fell asleep when the symbol wrote itself on his forehead. It was a simple protective trick, one of many he had learned during his investigations into the hidden forces in the world. After all, by the time he had left his more conventional career as a police detective, he was already in his fifties. Such small spells had served him well in the years since then, requiring less physical activity but often leaving him mentally exhausted; it was worth it.

Lue’s eldest grandson jumped up, spinning in place, his foot clearing a space. He landed gracefully, ducking a knife swipe from one of the men. That man screamed several octaves higher as Jackie punched him below the belt. Lue stepped forward, writing in the air with his fingers once more. Several signs landed on the attempted kidnappers’ foreheads, and they also fell asleep, quietly slumping to the tile floor.

One of the men turned to face this unexpected interference, an ornate knife gleaming in his hand. He stabbed at the famous detective with the knife. One hand caught the wrist, while the other slapped the blade out of the man’s hand. Slaps began to land on the man’s head as he tried to back up from the gray-haired, bespectacled occult detective who wore a white derby.

Jackie jumped, flipped, and landed outside the circle. He turned, bringing one fist and then the other against the man’s face. He took a deep breath as he faced the collapsed circle and looked around. “Grandfather!” he finally said as he noticed the old man.

“Hello, number one grandson,” said Louie Lue. “Why are you always in trouble?”

“This is not my fault, Grandfather!” Jackie Lue exclaimed, blocking a punch with one arm while punching another man in the face. “I don’t have anything worth this much effort.”

Lue blocked one man, writing on his arm with a free fingertip. The man froze in place, seized by the spell glowing on his arm. At least they had a prisoner to question now.

Airport security rushed on the scene, and the kidnappers still on their feet ran in separate directions. The guards couldn’t stop the fleeing men, who left behind three as well as the one Lue had frozen in place.

“What’s going on here?” said the first security guard on the scene. He gazed at the chaos around the disembarkment area.

“Most unfortunate. These men tried to take number one grandson away,” said Lue, taking a deep breath. “Grandson is Wu Shu champion and defended himself.”

“I am?” said Jackie, looking perplexed. “Yes… I am a Wu Shu champion.”

“Hey, aren’t you Charlie Chan?” asked the security guard, recognizing the famous old detective in his usual attire of a white suit and hat.

“No,” said Lue. “Charlie Chan only fictional character based on me so author not have to pay me royalties.”

“Really?” the guard replied. “Must be a story behind that, huh?”

“Confucius say, to make long story short, don’t tell it,” said the old detective. At the guard’s confused look, he smiled and added, ”Is just old joke.”

“Got some knives here,” said another guard after searching the men. He held one up. It was marked with the same symbol as the one Lue had knocked to the floor.

“Come with me,” said the guard. “Get the police department to hold these guys. We’ll wait in my office, if you don’t mind.”

“Wu Shu?” Jackie whispered to his grandfather, quickly following the security guard.

“Wu Shu, Kung Fu,” said the good detective, keeping up with the younger men. “All same to me.”

“You get hit by bao bien shen,” said Jackie. “It won’t all be the same to you then.”

“You sound like your father,” said Lue. “What’s more important is why Tigers wanted you.”

“Tigers?” said Jackie, pausing in mid-step. “I don’t know that or why they had the tiger symbol carved on their knives.”

“We’ll find out once honorable police are done with us,” said Lue. “What exactly brought you to America?”

“I thought I was going to take a vacation with my free time,” said the younger man. “Maybe look up an old girlfriend or two.”

Louie Lue and Jackie Lue answered every question ten times. They had no idea why someone would assault Jackie and try to kidnap him. The young man worked for the Hong Kong Museum of Natural History and had taken some vacation time. The last thing he was involved with was a statue excavated out of the wilderness of Indonesia and taken to a local museum there. He was not carrying a lot of money and had no credit cards.

The famous occult detective had been a local fixture in the city of Honolulu, especially in Chinatown where he lived. He was comfortable on the income he earned from being consulted for weird problems, and as a former police officer himself he had helped the police on numerous occasions.

***

Louie Lue led his grandson across Honolulu to his home in Chinatown. They entered his shop, which doubled as an office, talking about the city’s history. Lue went to the shelves where he kept the items he had collected over the years during his private practice. He turned to show Jackie a knife marked in the same way as the knives at the airport, then placed the blood-stained object back in its place.

“That was from Tiger Demon cult,” said the occult detective. “Clashed in San Francisco Chinatown in 1940s with fellow countryman Dr. Fung, master sleuth of Orient. He and assistant Dan Barrister thought they had crushed and exposed them to authorities. Either they were wrong, or someone has adopted dishonorable Tiger Demon’s methods and means to get what they want.”

“Grandfather,” said Jackie. “I swear I am on vacation. It’s my first one in years. I was supposed to take one last year, but the museum asked me to recover that artifact I told the police about.”

“What did this artifact look like?” asked Lue.

“It was a statue that resembled a man with a cat’s head, I think,” said the young relic hunter. “It looked like a–”

“Tiger’s head,” finished Lue for his grandson. “How many people touched it?”

“Did we touch it?” asked Jackie. “Of course. I did. So did a bunch of loaders and the curator.”

“Any still alive?” asked Lue.

“I don’t know,” said Jackie. “I left Indonesia and returned to Hong Kong as soon as the artifact was delivered to the museum.”

“Anybody know you retrieved thing?” asked Lue.

“I guess anybody would be able to find out if they asked,” said Jackie. “It wasn’t a state secret.”

“Let me make call, see what can be found,” said Lue. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Jackie walked around the small shop, looking at the souvenirs and objects. He wondered what the stories were behind these things. Ancient books stood beside hand-drawn maps and scrolls.

“Have some information,” said Lue. “All other people who touched statue are dead. You are last one still alive.”

“Marvelous,” said Jackie. “Any reason why other than pure fanaticism?”

“Probably because you have signaled end of world,” said Lue.

“Grandfather, there is no way that statue was unnatural,” said Jackie. After a pause, he added, “Uh, let me restate that.”

“Know what you meant,” said Lue, holding up a hand. “Have to get to bottom of this before something else happens.”

“What else could possibly happen?” asked Jackie.

The screeching of locked wheels burned against the street outside the small building. Men jumped out of two vans and rushed the door. Jackie glanced out the storefront as he ran for the door.

“Me and my big mouth,” Jackie complained as he grabbed the door handle to prevent entry. Jackie jumped up, bracing his feet against the frame in an attempt to hold the door shut. Two thumps precluded a crash that sent him to the floor. Men holding marked knives stood in the shattered door frame.

“What is problem here, honorable gentlemen?” Louie Lue said, putting himself between the intruders and his grandson.

“No problem, as long as he comes with us,” said the large spokesman of the group.

“We’ll both go,” said Lue quietly.

“We will?” asked Jackie from the floor.

“Would like to see man behind this,” replied the famous occult detective.

“You must be joking, grandfather,” said Jackie. “These men aren’t here to give us a tour of Honolulu.”

“Would you excuse us for moment?” Lue asked the Tiger Demons, waving them out of the house. “Be right there.”

“What?” said the spokesman, looking at his assistants on either side of him. They seemed as befuddled as he was.

“Be right there,” said Lue, soothingly. “You watch us through window.”

“No tricks,” said the spokesman.

“No tricks,” said the good detective, smiling. The Tiger Demons went and waited outside for the two to exit.

“Are you crazy?” asked Jackie, getting to his feet and looking for a back door. “Those guys want to do unspeakable things to us.”

“Calm down, number one grandson,” said Lue, waving at the spokesman with a grin. “He is just taking us to one person who has all answers. Think that would be faster than asking he who I paralyzed. What do you think?”

“I think we should run away really fast,” said Jackie sullenly.

“Am not doing that,” said the famous detective, with a sharp gesture of his hand. “Won’t get us anywhere.”

“Let’s go,” said Jackie.

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Hourman

Beware the Ides of February

by HarveyKent

All married men know the drill — don’t forget about Valentine’s Day! When Hourman tries to pick up a last-minute gift for his wife at a local jewelry store, he catches the Sportsmaster in the midst of a robbery! But since his hour of power is already up, is it game over for Hourman?

• Chapter 1: Valentine’s Day Emergency

• Chapter 2: Foul Ball

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For a moment, Hourman felt a chill of fear. He hadn’t counted on facing a super-villain without his Miraclo powers. Then he steeled himself, summoning up his courage. He threw out his chest and hoped to bluff his way through this.

“Might as well throw in the towel, Crock,” Hourman advised. “You know that Louisville slugger can’t hurt me! I’ll snap it in two like a matchstick! So why don’t you spare yourself some lumps and come along quietly?”

“Sheesh!” Sportsmaster sneered. “Do all you guys have the same dialogue writer, or something? And as for this bat, well, it’s not exactly regulation!” With that, the Sportsmaster thrust the bat forward. Hourman gaped in amazement as the top of the bat swung down, and a barrage of baseballs fired from the now-open muzzle of the bat like bazooka shells. The man of the hour moved as fast as he could to duck the whizzing spheres. He couldn’t move quite fast enough, however; as most of the balls sailed over his head to crash through the display window into the street, the last caught him on the left shoulder. Hourman felt the sharp stab of pain and heard the crunch of bone and his own cry of agony.

“Foul ball!” Sportsmaster cried, watching Hourman sink to his knees in sudden pain. With a flip of a switch on the handle, the top of the bat snapped back into place. Sportsmaster strode up to Hourman, holding the bat by the handle with both hands and raising it high above his head. “Time for a pinch hit,” the athletic adversary sneered, preparing to drive the wooden club down onto Hourman’s skull.

The longtime JSAer ignored the pain in his shoulder and drove his right first up high and hard into the Sportsmaster’s stomach. The villain was protected by the padded catcher’s vest he wore as part of his costume, but the blow was still strong enough and unexpected enough to make him drop his bat. Hourman pressed his advantage, kicking out with his leg and catching the Sportsmaster behind the knees, toppling him to the floor.

Holding his injured shoulder and biting his lower lip, Hourman scrambled to his feet and stood over Sportsmaster. “Ready to give it up, Crock?”

Sporstmaster writhed on the floor, clutching his stomach where Hourman had punched him. Then his right hand flew up from his belt, flinging a handful of blue dust into Hourman’s face and eyes. Suddenly blinded, the man of the hour instinctively covered his face with his hands, leaving his stomach open to a swift kick from the crafty villain. Already wracked with pain, Hourman toppled to the floor, barely conscious.

“Afraid you missed your cue, thanks to some billiard chalk,” Sportsmaster said, rising to his feet. He then shook his head in disgust. “Cripes, I gotta stop fighting you longjohn types! I’m starting to talk like you!” With that, the masked villain drew a small pistol from a holster strapped to his calf under his pant leg and aimed it at Hourman’s head. “If you’re a praying man,” he advised the helpless hero, “now’s the time.”

Red spots swam before Hourman’s eyes. He blinked twice to focus and saw the muzzle of the gun pointed right at his head. He did not think; he only acted. His legs shot out like pistons, propelling him upward from his crouching position. His head collided with Sportsmaster’s hand, and the shot went wild, the bullet embedding in the ceiling of the jewelry store.

“Don’t you ever give up?” Sportsmaster growled. “I could almost admire you, if I didn’t hate your guts!” Sportsmaster delivered a punch to Hourman’s jaw with pugilistic precision that would wring jealousy from Wildcat. Stunned, the hero went down.

“And now–” The villain’s tirade was cut off by sirens. Police cars, apparently drawn by the baseballs rocketing through the jewelry store window from inside, pulled up in front of the store. Hourman watched as Sportsmaster’s eyes momentarily flicked to the back of the store and the rear exit that undoubtedly lay that way. Then the man of the hour gaped in astonishment as the villain placed his hands on top of his head.

“I surrender,” he said simply.

Minutes later, uniformed policemen were putting handcuffs on the Sportsmaster’s hands, while another helped Hourman fashion a sling for his injured left arm from his cape. Hourman refused the offer of calling an EMT; he was reasonably sure Doctor Mid-Nite was on duty at JSA Headquarters that night.

“OK, let’s go,” one of the policemen said to Sportsmaster as they began to lead him away.

“Wait a minute,” Hourman called, and the police and their prisoner stopped. Hourman walked up to the masked villain. “I need to ask you something,” he said.

“Yeah?” Sportsmaster snorted. “What?”

“Why did you surrender?” Hourman asked. “You could still have escaped out the back way. Maybe you wouldn’t have made it, but you had a good chance.”

“But not with what I came for,” Sportsmaster said. “Don’t you know what tonight is, Flourman?”

“Valentine’s Day,” Hourman said automatically.

“Damn straight. And I forgot! If I go home without a present for my wife, I’ll never hear the end of it!” Sportsmaster said, referring to his wife, the original Huntress. “She’s still ticked off about that Super Bowl bet I lost to the Gambler. I’d rather go back to jail than face that!” Sportsmaster turned his head to the police sergeant. “And speaking of that, let’s go, all right? I don’t want to miss last seating for dinner.”

The police led the cuffed villain out of the store. Hourman watched them go until they were gone; then he threw back his head and laughed, loud and long.

The End

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“Oh, thank you, thank you!” the young mother cried as the man in yellow and black delivered the crying infant into her arms. “Oh, you wonderful man! I can never repay you! You’re a hero!”

“Of course he’s a hero,” the grimy-faced fire captain said, smiling under his moustache. “Don’t you recognize the costume? That’s Hourman of the JSA!”

“Delighted I could help, folks,” Hourman said humbly, shaking soot from his cape. “Captain, is that everybody now?”

“Everybody’s out and accounted for, Hourman,” the fire captain said, staring at the blazing wreck of the apartment building. “Thanks to you. I don’t think we can save the building, but buildings can be rebuilt. People can’t.”

I have a friend named Bob who’d disagree with that, Hourman thought but kept it to himself. “I’m just glad I was in the area when your engines went by,” he told the captain.

The grizzled smoke-eater turned a contrite face to the hero. “I have to confess something, Hourman. For years I thought you super-types were just all flash and glamor, fighting things from outer space and bozos in costumes like your own. I never thought you guys, well, gave a crap about something as mundane as a residential fire. I guess I’ve been proven wrong. I’m man enough to admit that.”

Grinning, Hourman wrung the fire captain’s hand firmly. “Think nothing of it, Captain,” he said. “A lot of folks get that misconception of us. The truth is, we’re just ordinary men and women like you… who happen to be able to pick up cars and fly.”

The captain shared a laugh with Hourman. “Yeah, I guess you guys are all right. Still, it must be nice to be above some ordinary concerns, like taxes and Valentine’s Day.”

Hourman’s eyes bounced wide open. “Valentine’s Day?”

“Hell, yeah,” the captain said. “Twenty-two years of marriage, and I’d still get chewed out by the wife if I forgot Valentine’s Day! Stupid little Hallmark holiday! Who comes up with these things, anyway?”

“Uh, Captain, I just remembered something. Important business. I-I have to go. You’re sure I’m not needed here anymore?”

“Naw, like I said, everyone’s out. Unless you can huff an’ puff an’ blow the flames out, we can take it from here.”

“OK, then I’m going. Thanks!” Hourman pelted off into the smoke-blackened night.

“Hey, thank you!” the captain called after him, but the man of the hour barely heard. He ran as fast as he could, cursing himself all the way. Valentine’s Day! How could he be so stupid as to forget that? Wendi would kill him.

Hourman’s speed gave out three blocks away from his destination. It had been long, hard work getting the occupants out of the burning apartment building; his hour of power was gone. He didn’t dare use his Miraclo power; he no longer needed to pop pills in order to summon super-strength and speed for an hour, but it was still too dangerous to use the power too often in too short a time span. But no matter, he could travel the rest of the way at normal speed.

Valentine’s Day! He continued to chastise himself. It was tonight. He had prepared nothing — no surprise, no gift — for Wendi. He couldn’t show up empty-handed. Thank heavens for the fire captain’s remark!

The man of the hour turned a corner and saw his destination in sight — Eisenberg’s Jewelry Emporium. He knew the owners well. Back in 1941, Dr. Togg’s gombezis – a walking, talking animal hybrid of a wolf and an eagle created by the mad scientist — had looted the store. Hourman had captured the evil doctor and returned the stolen gems, and the Eisenbergs had been eternally grateful. (*) Super-villains were still a new thing then, and their insurance would not have covered theft by a pack of wolves with the wings and talons of eagles; they would have lost the store. Hourman had kept in touch after that; the Dr. Togg affair had been one of his first big cases, and the difference he had made in the lives of the store owners had been a source of personal pride. The old couple had retired to Florida years before, and their son now owned and managed the store. He hated to impose on friendship for a favor, but he knew Jack Eisenberg would open the store late for him. And this was an emergency.

[(*) Editor's note: See The Hourman, Adventure Comics #57 (December, 1940).]

As Hourman approached the darkened store, his keen eyes noticed something amiss. While the store was darkened for the night like all the stores around it, the security gate was not down. Peering hard into the darkness, Hourman made out that the door was open just a tiny crack. And he saw a shadow moving around inside.

With all the speed possible in his non-Miraclo-boosted state, Hourman burst through the door. His hand flew to the light switch he knew was on the left side, and instantly the room was flooded with light. The would-be thief looked up in a start of surprise.

“Hold it, buddy!” Hourman growled before his mind registered the identity of the thief.

“Aw, you?” the Sportsmaster snarled. “Cheese and rice, I can’t get away from you longjohn types! If it ain’t Green Latrine or Star-clown, it’s you!” The masked villain brandished the baseball bat he held in his left hand, waving it menacingly like a sword. “Well, I got news for you, Flourman – you’re about to get tagged out at first!”

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Showcase

The Coyote Howls

by CSyphrett

When Willie White Raven finds himself transported from the Mojave Desert to the land of spirit animals, he finds himself in a losing battle with Coyote and Raven against Bear, leading to a showdown with Snake. But while this vision quest results in the birth of a new hero called the Coyote, Willie’s troubles are far from over as he encounters the menaces of Diamond Jill and a group of villains gathered by Snake to finally take him down. Will the Coyote and his new ally, a super-speedster, be able to overcome this ultimate menace?

• Chapter 1: The Ring

• Chapter 2: Thrill Ride

• Chapter 3: Servant of Set

• Chapter 4: Snake’s Revenge

• Chapter 5: The Coyote’s Desert

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Mr. Hex examined his temporary comrades. He was not impressed that they had been summoned by the same spirit that had called him, since they seemed to be in the range of common thugs. Still, he knew that physical confrontation was not the way he liked to do things. It was best to bring them along.

“Hex wand,” he said, holding his instrument in the air. “Take us to the Coyote’s dominion.”

A glow erupted from the wooden baton, surrounding the assembled villains and lifting the four into the air. The hex then blasted them across the desert sand, and in seconds they hovered above the State Police Forensics Laboratory.

Two men in the parking lot looked up from their conversation as the glowing bubble descended to the gray asphalt. One was a Caucasian, and the other was an American Indian. Obviously, the Indian was the minion of Coyote. The group spread out to form a crescent around the duo.

“Hex wand,” said Mr. Hex, pointing the wand. “Place the ring in my hand.”

The wand glowed, shining on Willie White Raven’s hand. Willie felt himself being pulled forward toward the man in the dark suit and sunglasses, but instead of resisting, he threw himself into the air to ride the pull back to the wand. Mr. Hex’s eyes widened at the move.

Marlon Wells looked around, deciding which of the villains to attack first. His brain processed information faster than a normal person. He decided to hit the big thug on the left first. He moved so quick, it looked like he had teleported across the short distance. His arms multiplied as he began to punch the villain hundreds of times a second.

The thug merely smiled in amusement. ”Why don’t you hit me more?” the thug said. “I can take a beating all day long.”

Wells paused in amazement, thinking all of those punches should have had some effect. He had never encountered a serious villain with an ability he was trained to use before. The closest thing he had encountered was Cory Ferris, alias Diamond Jill, who was as new to her abilities as he was.

“My name is Power,” said the thug, winding up. “Let’s see if you can take as well as you give.” Power brought his arm down to smash his opponent flat. Marlon ducked, glad that his reflexes were working better than his fists. He wondered what tactic he could apply to get himself out of the spot he was in.

Tentacles then wrapped around Marlon’s legs, lifting him into the air. He smashed into the asphalt before he could try to get away from the binding limbs.

“He’s not the target, Power,” said a woman, whose hair was like snakes. “Finish him quickly so we can focus on the designated mark.”

“My pleasure, Medusa,” said the large man, straightening his leather jacket.

Willie White Raven smashed into Mr. Hex, his ring pulling him into the collision. He hit the asphalt, rolling away from the surprised villain. The man’s wand dropped from Hex’s hand, breaking the spell he had cast.

Getting to his feet, Willie bent to grab the baton before the other man could. Before he could get close enough, the suited villain grabbed the wand in a gloved hand and glared at the Indian as he pointed the rod at his intended victim.

“Give him a heart attack,” Mr. Hex said with a smile.

The glow struck at the desert rat. He leaped out of the way, flame rushing up his arms, changing him into his more feral form. He sank into the ground with a bark.

“Bring him back,” Mr. Hex commanded. Instantly, the Coyote floated in the air. He seemed to be smiling with his canine features. ”What are you laughing about?” asked the wizard. The Coyote pointed.

Marlon Wells had his legs pinned together, a large leg-breaker swinging at his head, and another guy aiming a hand with light glowing in his eyes. This didn’t look good.

He wondered how he got into these situations as he rolled from Power’s killing blow. His hands grabbed the tentacles around his legs, and he began to rub the rubbery flesh as he tried to keep everyone in sight. Smoke rippled from the limbs within seconds as his hands buzzed against the air. Medusa picked him up and flung him across the parking lot.

Marlon spun in the air, ready to hit the ground running. He landed softly, and beams of light reached out for him from the unnamed stranger. He ducked and weaved to avoid the blasts. He needed to be more offensive against these his enemies, but he was running scared instead. He needed a plan to get him out of his spot.

He smiled at a sudden thought.

Marlon waited for the next blast to start. Then he switched places with Power, and the beam impacted against the leg-breaker, flinging him to the ground. Power could take solid hits, but not energy.

***

Cory Ferris roamed Interstate 70 in a black Toyota, enjoying the feel of the chill air from the air conditioner on her skin. The owner of the car lay in a gully five miles behind her. She had split his head open with the diamond ring she wore on her hand. That ring was why she had been nicknamed Diamond Jill.

She planned to drive until she reached California and then go north until she pulled into Portland or maybe Seattle. She was a bit tired of the dry sand, burning sky, and endless cacti that marked her path west. She didn’t care anything about keeping her bargain with the vision that had given her ring back. She understood other’s people need for revenge, but that didn’t interest her in any way. The only things she wanted was to be free, and to have the ability to do what she pleased when she pleased.

But if she did happen to come across the two who had stopped her before and put her in Bladesworth, she would rip them to shreds with her ring.

***

Mr. Hex looked up instinctively where the flaming wolf-man pointed, only to see a large anvil falling toward him like something from a cartoon. He pointed his wand with the words, “Protect me.” The anvil hit an invisible dome and slid to his left, and a cloud of dirt puffed up when it hit the ground.

The wizard was momentarily blinded by the flying debris. He raised his hand to protect his face, but for some reason, his arm froze halfway through the gesture. He tried to speak, to command his wand to work some of its magic to clear the air around him, but his lips were strangely stiff. The cloud settled back to the ground, and when it did, he discovered he was coated with a thin shellac of glass.

Mr. Hex tried to form words to command his wand to get him clear of his situation, but his mouth would not move.

“Thank you for the gift,” the Coyote said, plucking the hex wand from the wizard’s grasp with a barking laugh. “I wonder if it will work for me as well as it did for you.”

Mr. Hex watched as the Coyote ordered Medusa to be tied up by her own limbs and for Luc to fall asleep. The fiery canine laughed at the two as he put the wand away inside his fur. The flame dimmed, revealing the man beneath. The Indian smiled as he walked away with the wand, leaving his attacker frozen in place. Mr. Hex felt a confusion of emotions. He had never lost before, and now he had been beaten by a man with the audacity to laugh at him as he walked away.

“That was a neat trick with the anvil,” said the speedster named Marlon Wells, brushing off his tan uniform.

“That was a neater trick getting that one to shoot the other,” said Willie, smiling. “I knew you were the right man to help me out.”

“Maybe you can help me,” Wells said. “Cory Ferris has escaped and is leaving bodies everywhere. I don’t suppose you can track her down.”

“Let’s get our friends in custody before anything happens, and I’ll see what I can do.”

“Right,” said Marlon, walking inside to the lab. One phone call would bring enough officers to take care of the four villains in the lot.

When he returned, the nameless man who became the fiery wolf-man was gone. The lab technician cursed at being left behind, without knowing how this would end.

Marlon Wells went back inside, thinking that there was more than one way to skin a cat. He got out a map and a list of reports he should have been processing as part of his job and went over everything that had been reported on the highway. Now it was time to put his speed to a real test.

***

Cory Ferris braked slightly as a light approached her stolen automobile from the east. She spotted it in her rearview mirror, wondering what it was until she recognized the fiery form riding the light toward her. She pointed the ring on her fist at the glow, and a shower of sharp knives erupted from its surface, aimed at the Coyote in the air. She was disappointed to see him swerve out of the way of the sharp blades.

She put her foot down on the gas, light running from her hand into the wheel of the Toyota. The car burst forward, tires lighting in wheels of flame as the auto ran like a comet along the highway. The glow brought the Coyote forward to match her speed in a race along the empty road. She pointed her ring at him, and a giant hand wrapped around the avatar, hurling him at high speed to the asphalt. Some kind of air bag springing out of the ground stopped him from being seriously hurt.

Cory’s Toyota ground to a stop, and she cursed as she beat her hand against the wheel of the dead car. Why wouldn’t they leave her alone? She got out of the car, her ring glowing venomously. So the dog wanted to play, did he? They would play, all right.

The outlaw known as Diamond Jill angrily sent blast after blast at the Coyote. He was caught off-guard and had to move fast to get out of the way of the sudden barrage. Unfortunately for him, he had lost the wand in his collision with the air bag. That would have ended the fight fast, but now he had to scramble as he tried to think of a way to divert her attention. He drew a blank as he dived for cover.

A sudden wind erupted out of nowhere, and Cory flew into the air, hitting the ground and rolling over and over. She climbed to her knees, dazed and confused as she blinked the sand and sweat from her eyes. What had just happened?

Before she could get her wits back, a straitjacket wrapped around her arms. She screamed as the fiery dog laughed at her again. The other one stood at his side, tossing her ring up and down in his hand.

***

Coyote, Raven, and Snake met in the forest. A smashed tree indicated Snake’s displeasure at his loss.

“Our boy won the day,” Raven said, flapping his wing. “Pay up.”

“He had help,” complained the serpent spirit.

“That’s not our problem,” said Raven. “We said we wouldn’t do anything to interfere, and we didn’t. He did everything on his own, even getting his own help.”

“He wasn’t supposed to have any help at all,” complained Snake. “I don’t feel I should pay anything because of that.”

The Coyote laughed quietly. ”How about this,” said the canine, “double or nothing?”

The End

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Willie White Raven sat by his fire, watching the dying embers as the ring on his hand glittered in the dancing light. Sometimes it looked like a man’s face was carved in the turquoise stone, while sometimes it resembled a coyote’s. A splash of white marred his black hair as he stirred the coals in the fire ring with a stick.

He wondered sometimes why he had been given the ring by Coyote and Raven. Most days it was something he knew he had that was part of his nature. Just having it didn’t change him in any way, other than that now he could do things for others that they couldn’t do themselves. It also connected him to the spirits of the desert in ways he suspected were not meant to be.

Willie stared out over the whispering sands. Something swirled there, coming toward him low to the ground. He waited patiently for it to stop in front of the fire, and soon, familiar canine features winked at him laughingly. Fire rushed up his form, revealing his own fiery, half-canine form.

“Hello, brother Coyote,” Willie said calmly, his fiery fur casting dancing shadows on the sand. “What brings you to the real world?”

“Snake has decided to set agents on you,” said the spirit animal, his profile wavering as he shifted to regard his avatar. “He thinks that this will be a way to count coup on you for what happened with Bear’s treasure. We have tried to dissuade him with tales of your growing prowess. He does not believe us.”

“Really?” said Willie, trying not to laugh. “I wonder why he wouldn’t believe a creature of such honesty as yourself.”

“I have no idea,” said Coyote, a glimmer of amusement in his eye.

“Thank you for telling me,” said Willie. “I suppose an apology would be out of the question.”

“Snake is rather unforgiving,” said Coyote. “I suggest you be on your guard. I don’t have to tell you that Raven and I would be laughingstocks if he seized your ring as he plans. We would never be able to live it down.”

“I think you would have an easier time than I would,” said the American Indian easily.

“I am certain there would be no lasting harm to you other than the loss of the gift we gave you,” said Coyote. “Being laughed and gloated over by someone like Snake would be a lot worse.”

“I’ll take your word for that,” said Willie. “I will do my best to not let that happen to you.”

“I know you won’t,” said the shifting sand before it collapsed in a small pile.

Willie blinked as his fiery form poured back into the ring around his finger. The glitter faded as he made himself comfortable on the ground and allowed himself to sleep. Whatever Snake’s challenge to him was, he didn’t think it would occur in the middle of the rugged terrain. The spirits had wanted him to know what was coming and why. Whatever happened would happen soon, but he could get some sleep first. He was sure the attempts on him would commence when the sun began its climb from its place on the horizon. Then he could worry about Snake and his warriors.

Only, Willie tried never to worry about anything, and he had promised himself not to start over this new chain of events.

***

His name was Mr. Hex. He had taken that name from his father. He had also taken the old man’s weapon — a wand that allowed him to shape matter to a certain extent. It was pitifully easy for him to amass wealth with it.

The old man’s only goal had been to kill Ibis the Invincible, but he had always failed in every way. Then, when Ibis had been shipped into space with the Marvels, he had turned his hatred against the Star Patrol. He had lost again and again. No matter what he did, Ultraman was there to put a stop to it.

The younger Hex took the wand after poisoning his father. He amassed his fortune without any challenge to his supremacy, and his empire was now massive, but he had no challenges to his ability. He was bored.

A swirl of smoke drifted around the room from the lit fire in the hearth. It reared up, a triangular head forming at one end of the eddy. Embers formed eyes in the nearly flat line.

“I wish to speak to you a favor,” said the serpentine mist. “Will you listen to me, human?”

“Go ahead,” said Mr. Hex. “I have nothing but time.”

“A man possesses a ring,” said the smoke serpent. “I would like that ring if you can get it from that man.”

“What do I get out of this?” said Mr. Hex, sitting forward.

“You get a challenge such as you have not ever had before.”

“I will accept your proposition,” said Mr. Hex.

***

The serpent appeared in other places to gather its warriors. Some were lured by promises of profits and glory, others by a new challenge to test their skills. When he drifted into being at Bladesworth Prison for Women, Snake knew what he needed to lure his last warrior. Wealth and power would not sway the woman he appeared to as a crack in the floor. Cory Ferris cared for neither of those.

“What do you want?” said the prisoner, puffing on a cigarette.

“How would you like to get back at the men who put you in here?” said Snake. “I can arrange a chance for you.”

“What do you want?” said Cory, throwing the butt to the floor casually. “I don’t think I have a soul to trade.”

“I just need the ring off one of the men’s hands,” said Snake, wondering for the first time if he was making a good choice or not. “Will you do it?”

“I don’t think I’ll be much help in here,” Cory said, waving at her cell.

“Here’s your ring,” Snake said. The crack shivered, and a ring with a large diamond in it protruded from the fissure. “I trust you know what to do with it.”

Cory smiled, putting the ring on her finger. Energy flared around her hand, blowing the wall out. ”I’ll get your ring for you,” Cory said, leaping through the hole in the wall.

The crack in the floor closed up as Snake left.

***

Mr. Hex descended to the desert where he had been told others were assembling to get the ring from the phantom snake’s enemy. He didn’t recognize them and knew they wouldn’t know him, especially in the disguise he had crafted.

This was a game to him. He didn’t want it intruding on the other aspects of his life. His father’s experience had taught him where to draw the line. Nothing was more important than his privacy and freedom.

The others waiting for him to arrive seemed ordinary in every way, but he knew that was as misleading as the idea that his hex wand was just an ordinary piece of wood.

He idly wondered what these others could do, but he mostly wondered about the man he had been asked to hunt. He knew that the thing that visited him was as powerful as anything he had met in the spirit world. Its enemy must be in command of wondrous abilities indeed.

***

“What do you think, Coyote?” Raven asked, staring into a stream from a tree branch. “Snake has assembled some impressive mortals to get even with our mortal.”

The canine grinned slightly. ”The only one we have to worry about is the child of Set,” said the trickster, the scene in the water changing to show Cory Ferris getting into a car on the highway. “She’s the most dangerous.”

“Should we get assistance for our brother?” said Raven, with a small flap of his wings.

“Let’s see what happens,” said the Coyote. “Snake did ask us not to interfere.”

“So?”

“Let’s watch,” said the Coyote. “Willie has shown us that he was a good choice without our gift. Let’s see what he can do with it.”

“Do you mind if I say you are insane?” Raven said.

“We can always bet on it,” said Coyote with a sharp, barking laugh.

***

Willie White Raven awoke with the sun and looked out over the desert, enjoying the tans and yellows of the scene. He built his fire up, cooking enough water for a cup of coffee and taking the time to enjoy it. It could be his last.

When he was ready, he decided it was time to start figuring out who would be coming after him. If he could figure out what they could do, he could use that against them. He decided to head over to the state police lab and talk to someone there.

When he had helped round up this female criminal Cory Ferris, who had recently been nicknamed Diamond Jill by the media, he had found out that one of their forensic scientists had an ability to move faster than lightning. That had been a big help with the crazed Ferris. Maybe, Willie thought, it would be a big help if he could persuade the speedster to help him locate Snake’s helpers before someone got hurt.

There was no doubt that Snake would assemble the most ruthless people he could find to try to stop Willie. But he was equally determined to teach the spirit a thing or two about human ingenuity.

Willie knew approximately where the State Forensics Laboratory was, and he headed across the desert in a straight line. His gift would allow him to move quickly without having to call up its full power. He knew that as long as he kept on the move, it would be harder for Snake to tell his thieves where he was in the desert.

That was little protection, in his opinion, but attracting attention before he was ready was equally as bad. He didn’t want a fight on even ground where numbers would overwhelm him. He wanted a fight where he could win a decisive victory that would net him a good catch for the police. Hopefully, it would also ensure he wouldn’t be bothered by this nonsense again.

Willie walked across the desert rapidly, hitching rides when he thought he wouldn’t be noticed riding by drivers. The wind sang to him as he rode along, and he reached the lab two days later.

He paused in the parking lot, trying to decide how he would put things. He tried various opening lines in his mind as he thought it through. “Hello, I am the avatar of Coyote, and I need your help to stop some unknown assailants gathered by the irritated Indian spirit known as Snake.” That just seemed silly to him when he said it out loud.

As he watched the building, he tried to come up with something. Then he saw the man he wanted to talk to step out of the building. He went over to a topped Jimmy with CSU emblazoned on the sides and the State Police seal on the doors.

Willie decided to rush forward and at least try to talk to the man. Something would present itself like it sometimes did. ”Excuse me,” Willie said, waving a hand to attract the lab technician’s attention. “Can I have a moment of your time?”

The technician looked up, pausing with the door to the Jimmy open.

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Marlon Wells and Rudy Presser arrived at the convenience store. Almost immediately, Rudy was called to a scene farther down the highway. Marlon was almost glad to see him go.

Having been struck by lightning a few months ago, Marlon had found that everything about him had sped up tremendously. He could process a scene in minutes instead of the normal hours. He hadn’t wanted anyone knowing about it, so he hid his speed when possible.

As he looked the store over, Marlon realized that the killer had left no clues other than the bullets in the dead men. Prints on the door had been wiped clean. Prints were everywhere else, but Marlon knew they could belong to anybody within three counties. He expected to find prints. Identifying the killer from those prints was a different story.

Marlon rechecked the store to see if he missed anything. He was not surprised to see that the tape in the security video recorder was gone. He looked around until he found it unwound in the dumpster. He bagged it so he could get an expert to try to piece it back together. No clues, no suspects, he liked to say.

He sat on the hood of his car, filling out his paperwork and checking the evidence. He rubbed his face as he considered his options. Then he decided to call Roo and check in with him. Maybe he had some type of clue where he was.

“FV-12,” the forensics man said in his radio. “Go.”

“FV-10,” Marlon said. “No traces here. Maybe a recording needs to go to the A.V. people. Stop.”

“Got a hair,” said Presser. “Survivor said his attacker was an Annie Oakley in a Patrol uniform. Stop.”

“Could be from our D.B. in his underwear,” said Marlon. “Will advise H.P. and see if we can get an identification. Stop.”

“Right,” said Presser, signing off.

Marlon finished what he was doing. He called the nearest patrol station to see if they knew the one unknown victim. He then got into his van and headed down the highway to see if he could help Roo with his own crime scene.

Presser walked him through the scene, asking him what he thought. Marlon was impressed with the mobile lighting setup so the scene could be processed. They would have to come back in the daylight to really do a good job on the whole area. But it looked like Rudy had covered the bases.

Marlon walked the scene. His impression was the Porsche had went off the road first, then the patrol car had skidded to a stop on the shoulder. He saw that Roo had found a partial footprint from a boot and had poured plaster in it in the hopes they would match it with something else. He was struck that the patrol car had so little blood in it, but there were two wide splotches on the shoulder of the road.

He agreed with his colleague. The elderly couple had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. At least all the bodies had been taken away without marring the scene too much. They needed all the help they could get.

***

Willie White Raven changed back when he reached the first hotel. No need to alarm people with his alternate personality. All he needed to do was check each of the cars and see who went with which one. Now how could he do that?

He felt each of their hoods and found one was hotter than the rest. It was a gold El Dorado. Now all he had to do was find out who drove this car. Seemed simple enough.

He went to the hotel’s office and saw that the clerk was gone from the office. He went inside, muffling the doorbell with his hand. He searched the registry and discovered that the El Dorado belonged to a woman named Smith, the most common name in the world. Still, what had happened to the clerk? Shouldn’t he have been on the job in case someone came in to get a room?

Willie checked which room Miss Smith had checked into. He left the office, muffling the bell with his hand again. He then walked down to the room that was opposite the office and noticed that the El Dorado was not even close to the room.

He went to the door but paused, trying to think of some opening gambit. He couldn’t just knock on the door and ask if she had seen the clerk, could he? Still, it was better than standing on the threshold, frozen by indecision. It might not be the woman from the wreck. Plenty of people drove this highway all the time. Willie knocked anyway. If he was wrong, no harm, no foul.

The door opened warily to a crack. “What can I do for you?” said the woman, just exposing part of her body.

Willie White Raven looked at the woman before he said anything. She had an unlined face framed by short, dark hair. One slender arm stood out in relief against the darkened interior of the hotel room. A pretty thing, Willie decided. Not a murderer at all. His ring laughed unnoticed on his hand.

“I was looking for the clerk,” Willie said, launching into his half-truth. “Have you seen him?”

“Not since I checked in,” she said.

As she closed the door, Willie saw something slide down the door frame. He placed his hand on the door to stop its motion as he looked more closely at whatever it was. He had just decided it was blood when thunder rolled next to his head.

***

Marlon Wells had helped Rudy Presser check in the evidence after they had gone over the second crime scene. They would return in the morning to do a more careful check. Rudy went back to the lab after they were done. Marlon decided to cruise the highway.

He left his van, went home, and changed into a jogging suit and running shoes. Then he streaked back to the highway. An evening run was just what he needed to get the brain working right. No one saw him, but some maybe felt a draft if they drove too close to the shoulder. Marlon was quicker than the eye could follow.

Marlon cruised down the highway, just running. He could easily run across the state line over to Four Corners or maybe out to Jack Weston’s diner. He didn’t have a purpose or a special destination. He just wanted to stretch his legs.

He heard a gunshot and skidded to a halt. A hotel was the only thing close by. He decided to check there, then widen his search pattern.

As Marlon cruised into the parking lot, he froze in amazement as a fiery, dog-like man and a beautiful naked woman faced each other in the parking lot. The woman gestured, ring glowing on her hand. A wave shuddered through the lot, smashing cars left and right. The dog man gestured, and a wall of steel appeared.

“Set commands that you die!” the woman said, gesturing the blood on her body into clothing.

“Coyote says I owe him money, and I can’t die until I pay up,” said the fiery dog, taking to the air. He gestured a stream of taffy to fall out of the sky, balloons and confetti accompanying the candy.

Marlon ran to the open door of the hotel that he saw. He was glad the customers had decided to hide inside from the weird combat. He looked inside as the woman blocked the candy with some type of shield. A young man lay on the bed. Marlon didn’t need to get closer to see the man had his heart ripped out forcefully. He frowned as he turned back to the fight in the lot.

The Coyote and the servant of Set exchanged strange flows of light. The fiery caninoid fell behind a wrecked car. The woman smiled as she went to finish the strange creature off.

“Bad-tempered, isn’t she?” said a voice behind Marlon Wells. He whirled at the sudden sound, finding himself facing the laughing Coyote.

“Aren’t you supposed to be dead?” Marlon asked.

“How much fun would that be?” asked the Coyote. “Remind me not to let her take me to get some loving.”

“Tell me about it,” said Marlon, glancing at the corpse laying in bed. “I guess we should arrest her.”

“What we, white man?” said the Coyote. “I always wanted to say that.”

“I bet. I’ll distract her, and when she is focused on me, you zap her from behind. No fuss, no muss.”

“Let’s see it in action,” said the caninoid with a motion of his clawed hand.

Marlon slipped on some Oakleys to partially hide his features and partially protect his eyes. He seemed to flicker, then he stood right behind the agent of Set, swinging with all of his might. His fist impacted on the glowing shield she was enveloped in. He flew to the ground as the field repelled him.

Cory Ferris turned on him, eyes cold. She raised her hand, utterly intent on destroying her phantom attacker.

A metal box surrounded the ring, and the deadly glow faded around the killer. She seemed astonished at the change of events. Still, the gap in her concentration was enough to allow Marlon to get to his feet and deck her as hard as he could. She slammed into a car and lay still.

Marlon looked around for his helper and found that the Coyote had left as mysteriously as he had appeared.

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