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Crowley moved instinctively, shoving Rose to one side and using the momentum to launch himself the other way. Price’s pistol boomed, flashing in the night, and Crowley felt and heard the bullet whizz by his ear. Too close! Rose was smart enough to keep moving, tucking and rolling in behind a section of wall. Crowley matched her in the opposite direction, hoping Price would keep tracking him and leave Rose to get away.
To ensure Price did keep his eye away from Rose, Crowley launched himself up and away at an angle. He knew it was futile, there was no way he could cover the space between himself and Price, but if he simply kept moving, and kept Price’s attention away from Rose, that would be enough in the immediate moment. From the corner of his eye, he saw Rose running low, moving around the low wall trying to flank Price. Then the witch fired again and Crowley barked in pain as the bullet zinged his shoulder, tearing through his jacket and sending a line of fire across his deltoid muscle. He ignored it, hoping it as only a flesh wound. He’d been shot before and, while he felt the pain and the heat of the shot, he hadn’t felt an impact. Dampness soaked his jacket as the blood flowed, but that could wait until later.
Crowley ducked and rolled, and prepared to launch himself at Price in a suicidal last ditch attempt, when a figure flew out of the dark and crashed into their attacker. At first, Crowley thought Rose had impossibly covered ground right around behind Price, but her low run had been short-lived and she now crouched behind the cover of another wall a mere ten feet from where she’d started, hemmed in.
Price and the surprise assailant grappled, fighting for control of the gun. Crowley took the opportunity to run back across the rampart. He hauled Rose to her feet, intending to get them both out of there while they had the distraction, offering a silent thanks to whoever had interrupted Price’s attack. Was it a simple good Samaritan or someone else?
As the thought went through Crowley’s mind, the pistol went off again. Crowley couldn’t leave whoever it was to the fight on their own, and he turned only to see their rescuer slowly release his grip on Price and slide to the ground.
Growling in anger, Crowley was on Price in an instant. He grabbed the man’s wrist as he tried to turn and bring his weapon to bear once more. Despite the burn in his own shoulder, Crowley forced Price’s gun hand wide, grabbed the man’s neck with his other hand, and drove him back against the ramparts.
Price cursed, spitting fury. “I’ll kill you, Crowley. And when I get the journal from Rose, I’ll kill her too!” They wrestled, Price surprisingly strong for his age and rapidly deteriorating condition. Crowley ignored his ranting, tried to maneuver the man into a position where he could drive in a knee, or even a head-butt. “Then once I’ve reversed the effects of the poison you dosed me with,” Price went on, spittle flying, “I’m going to marry your aunt. She’ll need someone to comfort her after the death of her favorite nephew!”
“Will you shut up!” Rose shouted, her fist flying in from the side to crack into Price’s jaw. The man grunted in pain, his strength momentarily sagging away. With a roar, Crowley flipped Price up and over the rampart.
Price spun in the air like a rag doll, his high-pitched scream piercing the night. He bounced once off the castle wall, the screaming cutting short with a grunt, then smacked into the rough gray rocks far below and slid to a stop. His limbs were crooked, a dark pool of blood quickly spreading from his shattered skull.
Crowley nodded to Rose. “About bloody time he was finished.”
She returned his nod, and they ran to the fallen man and crouched on either side of him. He seemed barely alive, but Crowley was thankful he wasn’t dead yet. There was a chance. His face was very familiar. Under a mop of curly black hair, the man’s eyes flickered.
“Is he alive?” he asked in a weak voice.
“Price?”
The man nodded.
“No,” Crowley said. “He’s dead. And good riddance.”
The man drew in a shaky breath. “I couldn’t agree more.”
“Are you Edgar?” Rose asked.
The man nodded subtly. “Edgar Allen Poe. A pleasure to meet you at last, Rose Black. And you, Jake Crowley.”
“Done your homework, eh?” Crowley asked.
“I’ve been watching you, trying to catch up with events. Only just in time, it seems, but perhaps you didn’t need me at all.”
Crowley let out a laugh. “Are you kidding? He had us like fish in a barrel. We’d be done for now if you hadn’t come along when you did.”
“I’ll call 911,” Rose said, scrabbling for her phone.
“There’s no need,” Poe said.
“What do you mean, no need?”
“I’m so sorry for all the damage I’ve done. All the people who died.”
“Price had been conducting his rituals long before he met you,” Crowley said. “And he would have continued to do so even if you two had never met.”
“Of course. But so many times I could have stopped him, were I only brave enough. But I always thought, what if I fail? And then he has power over me, and tortures the formula out of me. I didn’t know if I could truly resist him. He uses barbaric methods you wouldn’t believe.”
“Why didn’t you destroy the journal right away too?” Rose asked.
Poe smiled ruefully, shook his head. “All those years ago, when I realized what Price really was, the evil he conducted, I suffered a bout of madness. I was appalled, vexed, and I lost my mind. I sank into a blackness that lasted days. When I came to, I couldn’t find the journal, I had no idea what I’d done with it. I made a cursory search, but feared that if I didn’t flee immediately, Price would find me, capture me, and extract the information. If not by torture, then perhaps witchcraft. I had to hope I’d destroyed the journal already, even in my madness, but I could never be sure. Regardless, I destroyed my lab and supplies and fled. I’ve periodically returned, to search for the journal, to check for any news of its discovery.”
“Which is why people think they see your ghost sometimes,” Rose said. “They actually see you.”
Poe nodded. “So where is the journal now?”
Crowley and Rose shared a quick glance. “We have it,” Crowley said. “It’s safe. No one else knows we have it but you and Price. So only you now.”
“Promise me you’ll destroy it? It’s too dangerous. Don’t be tempted by it.”
Crowley nodded, looked up to Rose and she smiled, gave a single nod back.
“We swear,” Crowley said.
“Good. Thank you. Now quickly, get out of here in case anyone else comes along. You don’t want to be entangled with Price’s death.”
“No!” Rose said, digging in her pocket again. “We have to call you an ambulance. We’ll deal with the Price thing.”
“It’s already in hand,” Poe said with a smile. He held up a smartphone, then grinned at the expressions on their faces. “I may have been around for 200 years, but that doesn’t mean I’m not a modern man. I called for help while you fought Price, my man will be along any time now.”
“Are you going to be okay?” Rose asked.
“I think so. I’ve survived this long, after all. I’ll report Price’s death, say the man mugged me here, and that he fell over the ramparts as we struggled, but not before he got a shot off into me. My man will act as a witness. Now please, go.”
Crowley looked down at Poe, his face ashen, but his smile in place. “Edgar Allan Poe,” Crowley said. “I can’t believe it.”
Poe’s smile widened. “Isn’t life a funny thing? But no autographs. Go!”
“Thank you again,” Crowley said, squeezing the man’s shoulder once before he stood. “For everything.”
Rose leaned down and kissed Poe on the cheek, then joined Crowley.
“So,” Crowley said as they started walking. “How have you enjoyed our vacation in the Big Apple.”
“Different to how I expected, if I’m honest. Maybe we should try again.”
Crowley kissed her. “Let’s start over in the morning.”
They hurried away into the night.