Crescent City Creeps #8



Hello Hooray

Winston Cross dropped the peregrine into a padded briefcase and snapped it shut. He threw the briefcase into the back seat of his car and opened the driver’s side. Sturgis took three shots at Cross with a revolver. Cross looked like he was in a movie that was getting tangled in the projector and the bullets sailed through him.

Cross frowned at Sturgis and shook his head with more pathos than anger. Like he was confronting a brother who can’t handle his hootch. Sturgis stared frozen and his face fell into involuntary penitence, “I won’t hold that against you, Verne. I can see why you would be so angry. And terrified.” Cross slid into the driver’s seat and tore off.


“We have to go after him,” Toli said yanking on Delareux’s jacket.

“Not tonight,” Delareux murmured, watching Cross’s car shrink as it departed.

“What about that guy has you rattled? We’ve seen things walk through walls.”

“It’s like I said, be either corporeal or incorporeal. Not both.”

“What difference does it make?”

“I’m not locking horns with anything that can walk through a wall and put a slug in my gut.”

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Crescent City Creeps #6



One Hell of a Party

Shelby sat crouched in the bushes as she had done for almost a year now. Every night, since last November, she’d skulk down dark old lanes, darting from shadow to shadow in an effort see her idol at work; the cat burglar Le Bec. Shelby would sneak into theaters during the day, napping and dreaming along with her screen heroes. When she grew up she was going to be Robin Hood.

“Maid Marian is for girls who went to school,” she would think.

But no character played by Errol Flynn or Douglas Fairbanks could hold a candle to Le Bec. Le Bec had the advantage of being real. Shelby would sit, unseen and observe, learning.

Tonight, Le Bec sat crouched on the the ledge of a third storey window. The house belonged to the Professor Emeritus of Anthropology at Tulane, Giles Parker. Le Bec had overheard a conversation Parker was having at a recent social gathering to celebrate the re-election of Verne Sturgis to the Louisiana Circuit Court of Appeals. The exchange concerned the relocation of an artifact of great power to Parker’s house. Le Bec remembered Parker sounding reluctant, but was eventually brow beaten by Judge Sturgis who seemed keen to have it relocated from his home.

“We drew the lots, Parker. It’s your turn to house the Jade Peregrine,” Sturgis growled.

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Crescent City Creeps #5

And In The End


“What are you playing at?” Delareux grumbled at Rasputin who was holding Toli and him at gunpoint in his lab.

“Thanks to the many fine subjects, yielded by the streets of New Orleans, I’ve have finally perfected a serum that will give me an unstoppable army. Soon the Goblin Liberation Army will administer my Ichor into the water supply and the whole city be a mighty force,” Rasputin flipped a switch and the portraits of Tsar Nicholas II and Alexandra slid up and revealed the preserved corpses of the same, in glass cases, “A force I will use to crush the Soviets, bringing glory back to the Russian Empire, to Tsar Nicholas and his lovely bride Alexandra.”

“You’re insane,” Toli barked, “They’re dead.”

“Is okay,” Rasputin replied, “I know a guy. Now, you two. You’ve been thorns in my side long enough,” he raised his gun to shoot.

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Crescent City Creeps #4

Children of the Revolution

Randal charged toward Shelby and Delareux swinging an immense boulder of a fist. The chain he was leashed to snapped taut and yanked Randal back. His fist passed in front of Delareux’s face, hitting him with a foul smelling breeze. A goblin leapt, grabbed onto Randal and scaled his torso. It began fiddling with the latch that restrained the beast. Randal grabbed the goblin and flung its crumpled corpse into the frenzied crowd. Randal roared. The combination of powerful lungs and a diminutive head made his roar sound like a foghorn. The low, gurgling undertone vibrated the wooden supports. Delareux saw the glare of the torchlights in the windows swaying in rhythm. The whole building shook.

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Crescent City Creeps #3

Blowin’ Like a Hurrican’

Anatoli and Delareux walked down a narrow, rugged street. Either side was lined with ancient, wooden structures. Most were two floors and had balconies railed off with dirty, worn French Provincial ornamentation. From some jutted overhangs and awnings that almost spanned the street. In front of every building and spilling out into the streets, were vendors and their carts and booths. Cars were parked along the sides leaving one with no notion as to how a car managed to navigate the anarchy. A main street shopping center filtered through an eldritch lens. Delareux stopped at the door of the loudest establishment and lit a cigarette. He held out his open cigarette case toward Toli.

“We’re early,” Delareux murmured.

“It’s seven o’clock,” Toli consulted his fob with one hand, accepted Delareux’s offer with the other, “I thought he got here six thirty sharp?”

“I would like to approach the doctor in a more relaxed state.”

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