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them true often enough.
    Stepping into his study, Max picked up the phone. To his delight, the voice on the other end was Leopold Grace, the current head of the Nova Alliance and one of Max’s dearest friends. “Leopold! You got my message, I see.”
    “Yes… and I take it that your retirement didn’t last very long?”
    Max grinned. Leopold knew about his activities as the Peregrine and had shared his own nocturnal activities with Max in turn. Leopold possessed a book which allowed him to travel between worlds, a gift from his father, Eobard. “Let’s say I’m keeping busy. Do you have anything for me?”
    “There are a number of other copies of the Axiomata floating about, but the earliest I’ve been able to put my hands on is only from the late 19th century. It is allegedly a good copy, though, with many details not found in other translations.”
    “How soon could you get it to me?”
    “Through normal means? A few days. Via some of our more… esoteric methods… how does tomorrow sound?”
    “Fantastic. When you’re in Atlanta in the fall, I’ll take you to the Fox Theatre. You’d enjoy it.”
    “I thought it was bankrupt,” Leopold answered.
    “That was back in ’32. The city took it over for a few years but it was sold to some gentlemen named Lucas and Jenkins last year. They’re using it as a movie house these days… a very opulent one.”
    “I’ll take you up on that,” Leopold answered with a laugh.
    Max was about to ask Leopold how some of their mutual friends were getting on when the line went abruptly silent. He checked the connection several times, a frown settling on to his face. Without even looking, he knew that there was someone outside the open window, perched low at the side of the house. Those sorts of feelings had saved Max’s life again and again over the years and he’d long ago lost any inhibitions he’d had about following his hunches.
    Setting the receiver back in its cradle, Max knelt down and reached under his left pants leg, retrieving his pistol. He hated that whomever was out there had chosen his home as the battleground… Nettie and the other servants were innocents in the affairs of the Peregrine. My two worlds keeping meshed together , he mused. If I don’t find some way to make peace with this, someone I love is going to die eventually.
    The Peregrine crept towards the window, allowing his mind to shift gears from Max Davies to his nocturnal alter ego. The shift was not a dramatic one, for there were far fewer differences between personalities than Max sometimes liked to think. Ultimately, Max affected the attitude that the Peregrine was another part of him to assuage his own guilt over his actions.
    A rustling sound made him pause. Whoever was crouching on the other side of the wall was rising, perhaps to peer inside the window. Max readied his pistol.
    A face came into view, one that was so awful that it sent goose bumps racing up and down the Peregrine’s arms. It was another of the undead, though one that was obviously possessed of a dark and sinister intelligence. This one looked about the room, his tattered lips parting in a sneer. The thing’s skin was pockmarked with sores that oozed a yellowish pus and Max was taken with the sudden notion that this man was recently deceased. He still smelled of voided bodily fluids and moved with a motion not that dissimilar from a living creature.
    The Peregrine leveled his gun, taking careful aim. Just before he fired, the thing glanced down and took sight of him. With astonishing speed, it threw itself backwards, even as the Peregrine pulled the trigger. The shot just missed him, echoing loudly in the still house.
    Max was on his feet, springing through the open window. He would have enough difficulty explaining all this without Nettie or one of the others coming upon the shambling corpse outside. The Peregrine landed on his feet, stunned by the speed of his attacker. The corpse was on him quickly, wrapping its