DANIEL RUMANOS MYSTERIES ✡️

KIT-10 AND COMPANY

It was a sunny day in downtown Manhattan when Miss Millie Drake arrived at the Rothstein Company department store. The establishment was celebrating its eightieth anniversary at this location, and the entire area was hung with signs and streamers announcing this, along with promotions of the special offers and entertainments that the venerable store had set up that day for their always much-appreciated shoppers.

Millie Drake herself is an exceptionally beautiful young lady; petite and perfect with luxurious chestnut hair, enchanting violet eyes, and sun-kissed skin. The powder blue dress she wore only served to highlight the shape of her slender youthful figure. Nevertheless, there is indeed much more to Millie than her physical attributes. She works with me as a secret agent of the Algolite Kosmikos, and has proven herself worthy of the highest respect in this vocation countless times over.

With her that day was Kit-10, our mobile personal computer that resembles nothing more or less than a small mechanical cat.

“This should be a fun day, Kit-10,” said Millie. “Too bad Daniel couldn’t be here, but he had to stay at headquarters and finish the complex mathematical formulae to counteract that wandering black hole in the Seventh Ruby Galaxy. He needs to remain completely undisturbed to do that, since any interruption in the calculations could be dangerous.”

“Of course, m--,” replied the mechanical feline. “This unit is fully programmed in the theory of quantum mathematical calculations.”

(It must be noted here that Kit-10, along with her other catlike characteristics, is completely unable to openly show respect to anyone. In fact, the closest she ever comes to it is by addressing me by a slight “s--” sound -- for “sir” -- and Millie by “m--”, for “ma’am”.)

“I know that Kit-10,” offered Millie, “but the calculations required an organic mind due to the nature of the anomaly and… Oh look! The store is having a shoe sale!” …

My name is Doctor Daniel Rumanos. I carry within my blood the vastly superior genes of the mysterious Watchers of Algol, the most intellectually advanced race in all of the known galaxies, whose technology is so sophisticated it appears as magic to lesser beings.

Whilst most Algolites live in elitist seclusion from the rest of the Universe, I am an operative for an organisation known as the KOSMIKOS. Assisted by the beautiful Miss Millie Drake, I protect Earth from all manner of menace. I am -- The Daemon-Star!!! …

Millie had just purchased three new pairs of shoes and was now busy looking at an assortment of designer handbags.

“What do you think of this one, Kit-10?” she enquired, holding up the shiny silk purse that had caught her eye.

“This unit does not create product reviews, m--,” replied the little robot.

With this, Millie giggled delightfully and decided upon buying the handbag. At the department’s self-checkout counter, she scanned one of her numerous payment cards and then put the purse in a shopping bag before cheerfully skipping on to yet another department in the large Rothstein’s shop.

And so did Millie Drake (alien secret agent) and the robotic Kit-10 continue their shopping trip that day, there amongst so many other department store shoppers. Forsooth, it is an event that would have been rather mundane compared to their usual employments, save for a quite odd and grotesque occurrence -- an occurrence concerning one of the entertainers that the Rothstein Company had inadvertently hired to help celebrate their anniversary.

For at that same time, as Millie and Kit-10 began to browse the department store displays, another individual was preparing to take the small stage that the company had erected in the very centre of the shop. This person was a dark haired girl or young woman, small of stature and clad in a long green dress. As she gazed into an handheld cosmetics mirror, her eyes began to glisten and shimmer with an eldritch red effulgence.

“This is that day,” she said to herself, her voice tinged with madness. “This is the day that I shall show my power to an unsuspecting world. This is the day that the Celtic spirits show their ascendance over this world, with me as their commanding mistress! This is the day I show my right as queen of all! This is the day that Aurelie Greenwolf returns!”

A few minutes later, the person known as Aurelie Greenwolf had taken the stage, doing a rather hackneyed “magic act” that was only meant to serve as a prelude to her actual occult conjuration.

“Oh my gosh!” exclaimed Millie Drake upon beholding this. “Isn’t that… Aurelie Greenwolf?”

“Affirmative, m--,” replied Kit-10.

“She has returned and is back using her ‘magic act’ to attempt to bring the ‘Celtic spirits’ -- actually various alien entities that invaded Earth in past times -- forth in this reality,” said Millie, taking a small silver cylinder from its hiding place on her person -- a cylinder that is actually her transonic lip-gloss, “We must stop her.”

“You cannot stop me, Miss Drake,” sneered Aurelie Greenwolf as a surge of red and black paranormal power appeared around her. “You can do nothing, and I shall use the Celtic power to rule this world!”

With this, Aurelie Greenwolf sent forth a terrifying blast of energies at Millie Drake, a blast that sent the transonic device flying from her hand and sent Millie herself careening backwards across the department store floor!

Do you recognise the horror in this situation, my dear friends and readers? There she was, the wonderful Miss Millie Drake, being attacked by the evil occult powers of the horrid Aurelie Greenwolf -- these being the very powers derived from the alien entities that the villainess intended to use to subjugate the human race to her own perverted will!

“You will now die, Miss Drake!” screeched Aurelie Greenwolf. “You will die -- your body and soul seared by the power of the Celtic spirits! You will die, and I will rule this world!”

None the less, there is one thing that the wicked Aurelie Greenwolf had completely overlooked -- that being a robotic feline known as Kit-10! The mechanical cat had just avoided the edge of the powder surge that had so affected Millie, and now turned directly to-wards the evil Aurelie Greenwolf and sent a bolt of her nose-laser directly at the villainess!

The blast was not enough in itself to seriously hurt the wicked young woman, empowered as she was by the alien “spirits”, but nevertheless it served its purpose. It caused Aurelie Greenwolf to be annoyed -- forsooth, annoyed enough that her concentration suddenly dropped.

The results were quick. The barrage of alien power that had been sent at Millie Drake abruptly halted, and Millie was able to regain her composure and also to retrieve her transonic lip-gloss from where it had fallen just under a display of colourful sport shirts.

Millie quickly programmed the device to a certain setting and aimed it to-wards Aurelie Greenwolf. A strange humming sound emitted from the transonic, and the darksome force suddenly changed direction -- flying directly to-wards its former “mistress”!

“No! No no no!” screamed the villainess. “This cannot happen to me! I am Aurelie Greenwolf, the Celtic Magician! I want to rule the world! I… I... !”

With this, the evil Aurelie Greenwolf suddenly just blinked out of existence, the dark energies going with her. Then all was quiet in Rothstein’s department store -- except for the smattering of applause from the customers who assumed what had just transpired was only part of the day’s entertainment!

“Thanks, Kit-10,” said Millie Drake, returning the device to its secret pocket in her dress. “You distracted her enough that I was able to set my transonic lip-gloss to the exorcism that Daniel programmed in case we ever encounter any residue of the ‘Celtic spirits’. I guess that worked to expel them properly?”

“Of course, m--,” answered Kit-10. “The enhanced human known as Aurelie Greenwolf has been banished to a prison dimension, and my sensors are showing no more evidence of ‘spirit’ activity in the area.”

“Well, it’s good that it’s over then,” announced the beautiful Miss Millie Drake. “Now, I want to buy a new hat for Daniel!”

***** DANIEL RUMANOS AND MILLIE DRAKE SHALL RETURN

MAPS

“My goodness, Daniel!” exclaimed Millie Drake. “Are you saying that the stolen map was actually made by Blackbeard the Pirate?”

“Quite so, my dear Mills,” I assured her. “Blackbeard, whose real name was Edward Thatch, drew the map during his time as the most notoriously prolific freebooter of the early eighteenth century. Many think it is a ‘treasure map’, but it is actually something quite different. It is, in truth, a coded series of coordinates psychically linking to a precise location along the Hudson River -- a location in which Blackbeard is said to have been empowered with certain occult abilities!”

We were in our secret headquarters, located as it is in the golden trapezoidal rooftop of a certain downtown NYC skyscraper, the ground floor of which is a takeaway restaurant called “The Pizza Gate”, named for its unique gateway-styled entrance.

I was clad in my usual finery; included a frilled poet shirt, velvet suit, and jungle boots. My panama hat and opera cape hung from a near by hallstand.

Millie is an exceedingly beautiful young lady; petite and perfect with luxurious chestnut hair, enchanting violet eyes, and a sun-kissed complexion. The purple dress she wore only served to highlight her slender figure.

Also with us was Kit-10, our mobile personal computer that resembles nothing more or less than a small mechanical cat.

“But what sort of ‘powers’ did Blackbeard have?” enquired Millie.

“According to several chroniclers of the period,” I opined, “he is said to have had the ability to emit bizarre flashes of light -- utilising them to frighten his opponents into submission.”

“But what kind of powers were they?”

“The region was once an outpost of Atlantis, so it is likely that they had their origin in that ancient civilisation. Perhaps Blackbeard discovered a place where some old Atlantean weapon had been stationed, hmmm? He then absorbed some residue of its power.”

“So now someone has stolen the map from its display at the Manhattan Cartography Institute?” Millie queried. “That crime scene where the security guard was found stabbed through the heart?”

“Indeed so,” I replied, twiddling my frills. “The thief -- or thieves -- had the knowledge necessary to disable the security cameras and cover all traces of their identity.”

“So it is someone who wishes to gain the powers that Blackbeard had?”

“Most likely that and more. You see, someone with a background in and knowledge of otherworldly powers could gain much more than Blackbeard the Pirate’s lightshow from that Atlantean technology. It is possible -- just possible, mind you -- that they could use such powers to control others -- and to establish themselves as fascist rulers of Earth!” …

Unknown to us at the time, in an unused boathouse on one of the Hudson River docks, a quite strange scene was taking place. It was centred on a black draped table on which was a map -- in sooth the very same map that my companion and I had been discussing.

Standing at this table were two figures. One was a man seemingly of middle years, clad in a black business suit with a long, blood-red necktie. His visage stilled showed signs of handsome distinction despite being marred with the after-effects of lifetimes of extreme evil. His hair was long and dark, and his face decorated with a thin moustache and goatee. Most of all, his pale eye shone with an absolute hypnotic glare.

The other was an insanely-voluptuous teenage girl with long raven hair, luminous blue-green eyes, and a mouth painted like an inviting scarlet gash. She wore a scarlet bikini top, a black miniskirt, and spike heels.

The man was the one known as Magister Don Wingus, the renegade Algolite who is my oldest and most dangerous foe, in truth the most notorious criminal mastermind in all of Time and Space. The girl is his daughter, the perilously seductive Anastasia.

“We have it, Stacy!” exulted Wingus. “The very Map of Blackbeard the Pirate is mine, and I shall use it -- coupled with my own superior Algolite abilities -- to unite with the Atlantean powers and to establish myself as supreme ruler of planet Earth!”

“But Father,” said the young girl, “won’t Doctor Rumanos and that silly Miss Drake find out about this and try to stop you?”

“Now, Anastasia,” admonished the villain, “I shall not tolerate any of your ridiculous obsessions with that accursed Rumanos. If he interferes, he -- as with all others who oppose me -- shall be destroyed.”

It is then that an onrush of flashing black and silver light began to emanate from the map. The light rose upwards and hovered above the table, as if awaiting instruction.

“Behold!” exclaimed Don Wingus, his face twisted into utter madness. “Do you see? The powers of the map have recognised my superiority, and have offered themselves to me that I may utilise them! I, Don Wingus, shall soon rule over all!!” …

Back at our headquarters, one of the computer systems suddenly erupted with an alarm sound.

“By the Triple Star!” I swore. “Atlantean powers have just been activated somewhere in the city. Kit-10, can you track a more precise location?”

“Accessing, s--,” replied the robotic cat in her simulated yet pleasantly-feminine voice. “Location verified as Boathouse 15 of the East Hudson Marina.”

(It should be noted here that Kit-10, along with her other feline characteristics, is possessed of the total inability to openly show respect to anyone. In fact, the closest she ever comes to it is by addressing me with a slight “s--” sound -- for “sir” -- and Millie Drake by “m--” -- for “ma’am”.)

“Daniel, we need to get over there right away,” announced Millie.

“Quite so, my dear,” I agreed whilst fetching my hat and cloak. “Come along, Mills and Kit-10, but be warned -- this is quite likely going to be a very dangerous mission. We are tracking the abilities of Blackbeard the Pirate!” …

A short time later, my companions and I were hurrying to the marina location on the outskirts of the city; a thick leprous fog having settled over the entire area, making the midday nearly dark as night. I was driving my specially modified canary-coloured Edwardian roadster, affectionately known as “Lizzie”.

“So Daniel,” said Millie Drake from the passenger’s seat. “The person who stole the Map of Blackbeard. Since they have to have had such special abilities and knowledge, do you think it could be… ?”

“Now now, Millie,” I admonished. “Let us not speculate before we have more facts, hmmm?”

“S--, m--,” suddenly interrupted Kit-10 from between us. “Detecting a build up of energy directly above our current location.”

At this, Millie and I looked up and beheld an horror -- an huge mass of swirling black and silver eldritch power dropping directly to-wards us!

I immediately utilised one of Lizzie’s special abilities by shifting her into sixth gear and moving forward at near the speed of sound. It was only for a moment, but was enough to propel us out of the way of the darkling power that had been falling to-wards us.

“Daniel,” said Millie, glancing behind us. “It disappeared!”

“Hmmm,” I pondered. “It was likely only a side effect; a comparatively small manifestation of the energies. Forsooth, the full force of the Atlantean powers will not be so easy to vanquish.”

I drove Lizzie farther until we had reached the marina. Then I parked the car and my companions and I got out and cautiously began to approach Boathouse 15.

The fog seemed to even thicker here. It was as if the powers of darkness had rallied to gather together on that fateful day -- that day in which an ancient and profoundly dangerous power was being evoked.

“So, Daniel,” said Millie. “This Atlantean power. Is it what caused that ancient civilisation to be destroyed?”

“Quite right, love,” I affirmed. “It was the ancient priesthood of that island continent having lost control of these forces and fallen into corruption that led to the infamous destruction -- the very sinking of Atlantis as told by the Egyptians and recorded by Plato.”

“So will the same thing happen if someone attempts to use the power now?”

“Quite likely, yes -- especially if it is someone of little moral compass, hmmm? Something that seems quite evident due to the severity of the crime during which the Map of Blackbeard was stolen. In fact, I am quite certain that… ”

At that moment, unseen by me, a long stiletto throwing knife was headed directly to-wards Millie Drake’s heart!!

Kit-10 sent a blast of her nose-laser at the knife just before it reached Millie. The weapon then fell and clattered loudly to the wooden planks of the marina.

“Oh my gosh!” exclaimed Millie. “Someone was trying to kill me!”

“Fortunately, Kit-10’s blaster is faster than the knife,” I said.

“Of course, s--,” added the robotic cat.

“Daniel, look!” said Millie. “That’s who threw the knife!”

I turned to where my companion had indicated and beheld a female figure vanishing into the fog. My friends and I hurried onwards in pursuit, soon following the fleeing shape directly into Boathouse 15.

Inside, we found our answer. On a table was the Map of Blackbeard the Pirate, and behind it were two individuals; one was the girl who had thrown the knife at Millie, and the other was the black-clad criminal that was the evil mastermind behind this and so many other horrid acts of wickedness..

Of course, I recognised the villain immediately.

“Don Wingus!” I said his name. “I should have known. So you did escape from The Al-Hazred Amulet, and re-united with you daughter Anastasia here to steal the Map of Blackbeard.”

“Greetings, Rumanos and friends,” countered the evil one as flashes of dark power appeared around him. “We have been expecting you.”

“So it was indeed you that stole the map from the Manhattan Cartography Institute,” I said, “and so cruelly murdered that security guard.”

“Oh, my little Stacy here performed the latter honour,” chuckled Wingus. “She is quite adept with the knife.”

“So I noticed,” shuddered Millie.

“Wingus, stop this insanity immediately!” I charged. “You cannot properly control the Atlantean energy. It shall destroy you just as it destroyed Atlantis itself.”

“You are quite incorrect, Rumanos,” countered Don Wingus. “My superior Algolite abilities have complete control over the energies of that lost continent. They are a power that I shall use to establish myself as ruler of the world! Indeed, they are powers that I shall first use to bring about your destruction!!”

With this, the pulsating black and silver powers suddenly increased. They increased by a seemingly countless measure. They increased and suddenly surged forwards to-wards my companions and me!

“Now, Rumanos,” exulted Wingus amongst peals of his own mad laughter. “Now -- you shall die!”

Is it possible for you, my dear friends and most-appreciated readers, to even commence in an understanding of the complete eldritch horror, forsooth the total unhallowed terror in which we then found ourselves? There we were, the lovely Miss Millie Drake, the robotic Kit-10, and me -- Doctor Daniel Rumanos. There we were, facing the evil arch-villain known to eternal damnation as Magister Don Wingus, along with his wickedly seductive daughter, Anastasia. There we were -- as the darksome forces of ancient Atlantis began to invade our very being!!

“You will now die, Rumanos, along with your accursed friends!” repeated the criminal Don Wingus, amongst further peals of his absolutely insane laughter. “The powers of the Map of Blackbeard shall sear your bodies and souls, and I shall then take my rightful place as ruler of this world!”

The powers had now surrounded us. Millie and I began to crumple to the floor, whilst Kit-10 spun around as her systems malfunctioned. She had attempted several shots of her laser at the dark energy, but it had no effect.

“No, Father, no!” suddenly interrupted Anastasia Wingus. “Please don’t kill Doctor Rumanos! I like him. I… want him. Please just give him to me so I can make him mine. Please, father. Please?”

“Stacy, you halfwit whore!” raged Don Wingus, striking his daughter hard across the face. “I have already told you that I shall not tolerate any of your stupid schoolgirl crush on that damned Daniel Rumanos!”

I then noticed something. I noticed that the powers that were attacking us had ceased to increase against us. I was then just able to break free and to step forward -- and to strike Don Wingus across the throat with a karate chop.

Wingus fell to the floor just as the now-reversing power reached him and his daughter. I heard Anastasia scream in horror whilst her father bellowed in outrage. Then, in a mere moment, all was silent.

I looked around the boathouse room carefully. There was no sign of the villains or of the dark powers. The map was still upon the table.

“Are you all right, my dear Millie?” I enquired concernedly.

“Yes, I’m okay now,” she replied, taking my hand.

“And you, Kit-10?”

“Systems undamaged, s--,” returned the mechanical feline.

“So, what exactly happened, Daniel?” queried Millie Drake. “I know that Don Wingus lost control of the energies, but where did they go?”

“The energies will have dissipated into an inter-dimensional realm that is parallel to non-existence. They have taken Wingus and his daughter with them into that realm -- from which they shall do no further harm to this world.”

“Well that’s good. Do you think we have really seen the last of them this time?”

“We shall see,” I pondered. “We shall see.”

I carefully lifted the Map of Blackbeard from the table, rolling it up and placing it in an inner pocket of my jacket.

“So what should we do with the map?” queried Millie.

“I am quite certain it is now safe to return it to the Cartography Institute,” I answered as we exited the boathouse. “The residual Atlantean powers will have been exhausted by the attempt of Don Wingus to use them. The map is now just a symbol -- a symbol of the legacy of Blackbeard the Pirate!”

***** DANIEL RUMANOS AND MILLIE DRAKE SHALL RETURN

WICKED WICKED WAYS

“By the Daemonian Spires!” I swore. “The Shaitans of Eblis. We have dealt with them before, but the presence of The Al-Hazred Amulet could conceivably create a far more powerful manifestation of them -- in truth, a manifestation of the type unseen since prehistoric times.”

“But Daniel,” asked Millie Drake, “why was such a dangerous amulet to be found there at that mosque on Pacific Avenue, and how was it so easily stolen?”

We were at our secret headquarters, located as it is in the golden trapezoidal rooftop of a certain New York City skyscraper, and containing our laboratory and electronic equipment, along with many alien artefacts and mementos of our career across Space and Time. I was clad in my usual finery, including a frilled poet shirt, purple velvet suit, and jungle boots. My panama hat and opera cape hung from a near by hallstand.

My companion Millie is an exceedingly beautiful young lady; petite and perfect with luxurious chestnut hair, enchanting violet eyes, and sun-kissed skin. The hot pink dress she wore only served to highlight her wonderful adolescent figure.

Also with us was Kit-10, our mobile personal computer that resembles nothing more or less than a small mechanical cat.

“The imam of the mosque was unaware of the amulet’s true purpose,” I replied to Millie’s query. “He only saw it as an antiquity of medieval Arabian culture, not knowing that it had actually belonged to the infamous sorcerer known as Abdul al-Hazred. It was on display in a small glass case to the side of the mosque’s main sanctuary, so purloining it was not a difficulty, hmmm?”

“But the thief had to be aware of the amulet’s true origin, right?” returned my friend. “In order to even attempt such a thing, I mean. If the imam didn’t even know, who would?”

“That is indeed the question, love. The thief had to be someone of an high level of occult knowledge, familiar with the story of the Shaitans, those immensely powerful beings who ruled the ancient planet Eblis, at one time the fifth of the Solar System, between the orbits of Mars and Jupiter. They were beings of such incredible power that their mentalist abilities in time corroded the very structure of their planet, causing it to break up many millions of years before intelligent mammalian life even developed upon Earth. This is what created the asteroid belt, hmmm?”

“But even that didn’t kill the Shaitans, right?”

“Indeed not. With their physical forms gone, they then issued forth as beings of pure energy, wreaking havoc across myriad millennia, until they eventually settled on Earth, in the area of the Middle East -- becoming the very demonic spirits worshipped by the people of that region until the Islamic Prophet Mohammed converted the people to the worship of the God of Abraham.”

“So if someone has stolen The Al-Hazred Amulet, and intends to use it to summon the Shaitans, what will they… ?”

“Sensing danger, s--,” suddenly interrupted Kit-10 in her simulated yet pleasantly-feminine voice. “An unknown energy signature has entered the chamber.”

(It should be noted here that Kit-10, along with her other feline characteristics, is possessed of the total inability to openly show respect to anyone. In sooth, the closest she ever comes to it is by referring to me by a slight “s--” sound -- for “sir” -- and to Millie Drake by “m--” -- for “ma’am”.)

“Oh my goodness, Daniel!” cried Millie. “Look!”

I whirled around to see that which had so startled my companions, and beheld an horror indeed. At that very moment, forming in the air above us was a swirling cacophony of eldritch black and red energies; energies that, as we watched, began to coalesce into a face. It was a face as unto that of a man of middle years, his visage still showing signs of handsome distinction despite being marked with the results of lifetimes of extreme unadulterated evil. His hair was long and dark, and his countenance was decorated with a thin moustache and goatee. Most of all, his pale eyes shone with an absolute hypnotic glare.

Of course, I recognised this face immediately. I recognised it as belonging to my oldest and most bitter foe, the renegade Algolite who has become the most dangerous and prolific criminal in all the Cosmos.

It was the face of Don Wingus!! ...

“Don Wingus!” I uttered the damnable name of the one possessing the countenance manifesting before us. “I should have known. So he did escape from The Houdini Codex -- and it was he who sent the demon-possessed actor Jim Caviezel against is. Now he has continued his career of evil by stealing The Al-Hazred Amulet and utilising it to call forth the very power of the Shaitans!”

Then, as quickly as it had appeared, the unholy phantasm then vanished.

“Are you all right, Millie?” I enquired concernedly.

“Yes, I’m OK, Daniel,” she replied.

“And you, Kit-10?”

“All systems undamaged, s--,” replied the robotic kitten.

“So was that really Don Wingus?” queried Millie Drake. “Did he actually steal the amulet?”

“Quite so, love,” I replied, “and he has indeed used it to summon the powers of the Shaitans of Eblis. This manifestation was merely a display of bravado, but showing that he could invade the sacred space of our headquarters, even for a brief time, highlights the extreme power that he is now wielding.”

“Daniel, we have to stop him!”

“Quite so, and we must begin by ascertaining from where he is operating, hmmm? Kit-10, can you trace those energies to any starting point?”

“Accessing,” replied the robot. “Systems detect the origin point to be beneath the address at the corner of Pacific Avenue and Martin Luther King Boulevard.”

“Interesting,” I said, accessing some information on one of the computer consoles. “That is a former church basement that was once used as a ‘soup kitchen’ for the city’s poor. The sufferings undergone at such a location would be conductive to the dire powers of the Shaitans, hmmm?”

“We need to get over there right away!” announced Millie Drake bravely.

“Quite so,” I agreed whilst fetching my hat and cloak. “Come along Mills, Kit-10. We have demons to fight.” …

A short time later on that overcast day, we arrived at the location, located as it was in an old shuttered church building on the corner of Pacific and MLK.

“Be aware,” I warned my companions. “Wingus shall not be here alone. There are likely agents of Spectral Paranormal already watching us.”

Millie, Kit-10, and I walked cautiously around the church to the small flight of steps leading to the basement. Strangely, a figure was walking up them to-wards us. He was an obese man of medium height, dressed in a sport shirt and shorts, his skin pale and eyes blue, and his face covered with a rather scruffy growth of beard.

“Is there something I can do for you?” he questioned, his voice humorously high-pitched. “My name is Dave Eddings, and I’m here to help people in need.”

“Pardon us for having to barge past, my good man,” I replied, “but you should be aware that this establishment is being utilised for something of extreme occult evil.”

“Oh, really,” he rejoined, scratching his beard. “Wait. Do you mean… what my master is doing?”

With this, the man who called himself Dave Eddings suddenly struck me in the face, a blow not of mere human strength -- a punch that set me careening across the pavement!

“Kit-10!” I heard Millie Drake call. “Blast that man!”

The robotic cat then sent a bolt of her nose-laser at Dave Eddings. The man then fell to the pavement with a resounding thud.

Quickly recovering from the blow, I ran over and inspected the man’s now-prostrate form.

“It is all right,” I said. “He is now quite unconscious. ‘Dave Eddings’, hmmm? Kit-10, do you have any information on this man?”

“Accessing database of known criminals, s--,” replied the computerised feline. “Located. David Eddings, former social worker. Forced to leave his employment with the state due to allegations of the sexual abuse of his own minor children. Narrowly escaped arrest due to assistance from former co-workers. Has survived on unemployment benefits since.”

“Daniel,” said Millie Drake, “do you think his guilt is what led him to join Spectral Paranormal?”

“More than likely,” I opined. “Such feelings are indeed known to lead humans into becoming operatives of evil. Nevertheless, we have no time for philosophising, hmmm?”

We then continued down the steps to the church basement. The door was unlocked, and we entered the partially-ruined cellar. It was quite dark, but we soon descried some black candles glowing at the far end of the subterranean chamber.

“Greetings, Rumanos and friends,” said the mocking voice of Don Wingus. "I have been expecting you. I do hope you have not hurt Dave Eddings too much. He has such a fun fat fundament.”

The villain was standing before an ebon-draped altar on which was the silver form of The Al-Hazred Amulet itself, its Arabic letters glowing with a blood-red effulgence.

“Don Wingus, you unholy fiend!” I charged. “Stop this madness immediately. You cannot control the powers of the Shaitans at the level this will evoke them. They are pure chaos, true evil in its most unforgiving form, they are…”

“Just stop it, Rumanos, you old hypocrite,” returned Wingus, evilly resplendent in his black vestment robe. “I already have total control of the Shaitans of Eblis through the influence of the amulet. It is by them that I shall establish Spectral Paranormal as the dominant religion on planet Earth, with myself as its supreme high priest! Through this, it is actually you who shall be remembered as the ultimate force of evil; the creepy alien exile who opposed me. The power is now mine, and you shall now die for your ‘wicked wicked ways’!”

With this, there suddenly burst forth from the altar area a seething force of darksome demonic energies, blacker than black can be; an unholy maelstrom of deviltry that then surged forth directly to-wards Millie Drake, Kit-10, and me!

Is it really at all possible, my dear friends and most appreciated readers, that you can even begin to fathom the extreme satanic horror, forsooth the complete unhallowed terror and total demoniacal fear of the situation in which my companions and I then found ourselves? There we were, the lovely Miss Millie Drake, the robotic Kit-10, and me -- Doctor Daniel Rumanos. There we were, facing the evil intergalactic villain known to eternal damnation as Magister Don Wingus. There we were -- with the very powers he had now summoned, the swirling cacophony of red and black supernatural terror, the dread horror of the horridly ancient Shaitans of Eblis -- bursting forth from the very void of darkness directly to-wards us!!

“You will now die, Rumanos and friends,” reiterated Wingus. “You will now die, and I -- Don Wingus -- shall use the powers of the Shaitans to take my rightful place as supreme ruler of worlds!”

Then, before the Shaitan energies would have reached us, a most unusual incident occurred. For it is now that Dave Eddings, having recovered from Kit-10’s stun-ray, blundered into the room.

“Master Wingus!” he bellowed. “Master Wingus! I failed! I failed to keep your enemies away! Oh please forgive me, master!”

Dave Eddings kneeled and grasped the legs of Don Wingus as a form of grotesque supplication.

“Eddings, you pathetic fool!” shouted Wingus. “Unhand me! Your interference is causing a reversal of… !”

Indeed, at that very time, the energies of the demonic Shaitans of Eblis had reversed away from their course to-wards my friends and me, and had instead charged directly at the black-clad form of Magister Don Wingus!

“No! No!” he screamed as the demonic powers surrounded him. “You cannot do this to me! I am Don Wingus! I am the one who summoned you! I am the rightful master of all! I am… I am… !”

It was then that the voice of Don Wingus was suddenly cut off. It was then that he suddenly ceased to be seen within that underground chamber. For it was then that the very forces of the Shaitans suddenly blinked out of existence -- taking with them both Dave Eddings and his villainous master!

“Are you all right, my dear Millie?” I enquired concernedly.

“Yes, I’m OK,” she replied, taking my hand.

“And you, Kit-10?”

“Systems undamaged, s--,” replied the little robot, as always.

“So what happened?” queried Millie Drake. “I know that Don Wingus lost control of the Shaitans, but where did they go?”

“The Shaitans have been banished to another dimension -- a sort of ‘hell’, hmmm? -- and have taken Wingus with them.”

“So what about The Al-Hazred Amulet?”

“We can return it to the mosque,” said I, taking the now seemingly harmless object from the altar. “I am certain the imam can look up some suitable prayers against evil from the works of their Prophet. An interesting man, old Mohammed. Did you know he originally had wanted to convert to Judaism?”

“What happened to change his mind?” asked Millie as we exited the old church basement.

“Not being familiar with rabbinical tradition, he found some of the arguments of the Torah scholars a bit insulting. A shame, really. If the ‘Sons of Abraham’ had stayed united, the history and modern state of the Middle East would be quite different.”

***** DANIEL RUMANOS AND MILLIE DRAKE SHALL RETURN

THE PASSION OF THE CAVIEZEL

“Remember, Caviezel,” said Don Wingus, “you must think of Choronzon!”

“Yes, Master Wingus,” replied Jim Caviezel. “I will remember.”

It was in a secret chamber somewhere underneath the city that this odd exchange took place. Magister Don Wingus, the infamous Algolite renegade and intergalactic criminal, was wearing a vestment robe of ebon black. His hair was long and dark, and his face, decorated as it was with a thin moustache and goatee, still showed signs of handsome distinction despite the obvious marks of lifetimes of extreme wickedness. Most of all, his pale eyes shone with an absolute hypnotic glare.

The other was a decent-looking man in his fifties, tall and rather thin, with greying brown hair and a trim full beard. His blue eyes stared strangely as if haunted by thoughts of a life ruined. He was wearing blue jeans and a white polo shirt.

“So this will help with my acting career, Master?” he continued. “You promised you would do something to help me with that. It used to be so good before the woke elites took over Hollywood.”

“Yes, I know,” replied Wingus, barely hiding a note of annoyance. “The great demon Choronzon will empower you to conquer the entertainment industry, that I may utilise it to take my own rightful place as ruler of this world. Now, turn around, drop your trousers, and bend over.”

Caviezel did as ordered, and the evil Don Wingus took his place behind him, lifting up his vestment robe.

“By the powers of the psyche-sexual transfer,” intoned the villain, “I declare that the powers of the demon of chaos shall be invoked, that it may aid us in our endeavours.”

“Oh yes, Master!” moaned Jim Caviezel as Wingus began to abuse him. “Oh, that is so good!”

“Think of Choronzon!” shouted Don Wingus as he continued violently. “Think of Choronzon! Think of Choronzon!” …

“Jim Caviezel?” wondered Millie Drake. “I’ve never heard of him.”

“He was a bit before your time, hmmm?” I replied. “Originally from Mount Vernon, Washington, he appeared in several films and was building a good career in the business before he was blacklisted for playing the lead role in an hideously anti-Semitic film entitled ‘The Passion of the Christ’.”

“Anti-Semitic?” shuddered Millie. “He must be a horrible person then. So now he is making some sort of comeback?”

“So it appears,” I confirmed. “He is being advertised as a sort of motivational speaker doing a lecture tour -- a tour in which he is informing the public concerning the virtues of Choronzon!”

We were in our secret headquarters, located as it is in the golden trapezoidal roof of the Gateway Hotel in Atlantic City, and which contains numerous alien artefacts from our career as protectors of planet Earth.

I was clad in my usual finery, including a frilled poet shirt, purple velvet suit, and jungle boots. My panama hat and opera cape hung from a near by hallstand. My companion, Miss Millie Drake, is an exceptionally beautiful young lady -- petite and perfect with luxurious chestnut hair, enchanting violet eyes, and sun-kissed skin. The royal blue dress she wore only served to highlight the shape of her wonderful adolescent figure.

Also with us, there in that chamber filled with electronic equipment and strange mementos of our past adventures, was Kit-10 -- our mobile personal computer that resembles nothing more or less than a small mechanical cat.

“Choronzon?” repeated Millie Drake. “Isn’t that a demon?”

“Indeed it is,” I affirmed whilst twiddling my frills, “and a particularly noxious one at that. Choronzon is the demon of chaos called forth by the sixteenth century English occultist John Dee as part of his Enochian system of 'magic'. Choronzon is a creature of dispersion, its only purpose being the cause disorder and discord. Dee was only able to control it due to having the full information on the working of the magical system -- information, I must say, that has since been lost.”

“So if this Jim Caviezel is calling forth the demon now… Oh my gosh!”

“Quite so, my dear Mills. Caviezel must be stopped. If Choronzon is set forth upon Earth, the results could be the utter annihilation of all life on the planet.”

“Then we must stop him!” bravely announced Millie Drake.

“Indeed we must,” I agreed, fetching my hat and cloak. “Caviezel is appearing tonight at the Atlantic City Convention Center, and we shall go confront him as agents of the Kosmikos.” …

The sun was just setting over Atlantic City as Millie Drake and I rode down Indiana Avenue to-wards the convention centre. I was at the wheel of our specially-modified canary-yellow Edwardian roadster (affectionately know as “Lizzie”).

“It’s too bad Kit-10 couldn’t come with us,” complained Millie.

“Quite so,” I agreed, also missing the help that the computerised kitten could have given us in our strange assignment, “but we cannot be certain what detrimental effect the powers of Choronzon could have on her operational systems. It is better for her to stay at headquarters monitoring the computers, hmmm?”

“So Daniel,” continued my companion, “do you really think this Jim Caviezel could succeed in calling forth that demon? Is he perhaps a Spectral Paranormal agent and… Oh my goodness! Look!”

I looked upwards to see what had so startled Millie and beheld an horror indeed. It was an huge black shape with two glowing crimson eyes, and it was descending directly upon us!! …

Meanwhile at the Atlantic City Convention Center, Jim Caviezel was beginning his “motivational seminar”. Standing onstage in a black business suit with a blood-red necktie, he addressed the assembled audience with an air of supercilious contempt. Some noticed the flashes of ebony black light that seemed to play around his person.

“I am, of course, Jim Caviezel,” he stated, “the greatest living Hollywood actor. The only reason everyone doesn’t know this is because of all the woke garbage in movies today. But don’t worry, because right here tonight we are going to break through all of that. Yes, tonight I am going to prove my power by manifesting the force that will destroy the liberal media. Tonight I am going to bring forth -- Choronzon!!”

With this, and huge darksome mass of demoniacal powder appeared all around Caviezel, accompanied as it was by a sound as of desolate lamentation.

“This is the power of Choronzon!” exulted Jim Caviezel as the audience gasped in shock. “This is the power I wield over this world and shall use to make myself known as the chosen one to bring All-American Conservatism back to Hollywood!” …

I activated Lizzie’s modified engines in an attempt to escape the demonic form that had appeared descending upon us. We shot out from in front of it just before it would have reached the car.

“Daniel,” said Millie Drake, glancing behind us. “It just disappeared!”

“Yes,” I replied. “That was only a small side-effect of the Choronzon powers. The full force of it shall not be that easy to escape. We must hurry and face Caviezel before he manifests it further!”

We arrived at the convention centre and parked Lizzie in the underground lot, taking the elevator lift to the level on which the “seminar” was taking place.

As we entered the area, Jim Caviezel, surrounded as he was by the swirling dark forces of Choronzon, recognised and addressed us thus:

“Oh hello, Doctor Rumanos and Miss Drake. I was told to expect you. You see, there is something you don’t know. I am not some mere magic user. I am Jim Caviezel, and I have been blessed with power from one most skilled in the supernatural forces. The power is mine!”

“Daniel,” whispered Millie to me, “could he mean… ?”

“Let us not speculate now, love,” I admonished. “We have no interest in Caviezel’s boasting. We are only here to defeat the demon.”

“You cannot defeat me, you big-nosed Algolite meddler,” sneered Jim Caviezel, “and you cannot defeat -- the power of Choronzon!!”

With this pronouncement, the darkling demonic power suddenly shot out from the stage area to-wards us!

“You will now die, Doctor Daniel Rumanos and Miss Millie Drake!” continued Caviezel. “By the power of Choronzon, you will now die!!!”

Do you see the ungodly horror in this situation, my dear friends and readers? There we were, the wonderful Miss Millie Drake and me -- Doctor Daniel Rumanos. There we were -- facing the obscene Hollywood actor known as Jim Caviezel (his audience having long since fled in terror). There we were -- as Caviezel sent the dark force of the demon of chaos and dispersion directly to-wards us! It was a power he was using in a desperate attempt to save his failing acting career -- a power he had gained (unknown to us at the time) by an horrid act of ungodly sexuality with my oldest and most bitter enemy; the master criminal and intergalactic villain known to eternal damnation as Don Wingus!

“You will die, Doctor Rumanos!” repeated Caviezel. “You will die, along with all of that woke Hollywood elite filth! Then I shall be recognised as the world’s greatest actor, and Spectral Paranormal shall reign supreme!”

The audience had by now indeed fled in terror, and we stood there alone as the darksome power of the chaos demon shot directly to-wards us!

“Millie, hold my hand,” I said.

Then, as soon as I felt my beautiful companion’s touch, I intoned:

“Ol sonuf vaoresaji gohu Iad Belata! Elanosaha caelazod! Sobrazod o noziredo noco mada! Hoathe Iaida Saitan!”

Then, a most remarkable thing occurred. The dark force of Choronzon suddenly reversed and -- in stead of touching Millie and me -- shot directly back upon Jim Caviezel!

“What!” he cried in horror as the demonic power began to touch him. “Rumanos, what have you done? What have you done?!!”

“By the supreme power of the forty-eight Keys of Enoch,” I said, “I do take command over the powers of Choronzon -- and by it I do bring your end!”

The dark force had by now completely surrounded Jim Caviezel, and he was screaming in total abject terror.

“No!” he cried. "No! No! Noooooooo!!”

With this, the power suddenly dispersed, and all was quiet there in the Atlantic City Convention Center. I beheld the stage area carefully, and assured that there was no further sign of either the demon or the execrable actor Jim Caviezel.

“Daniel,” said Millie Drake, “what happened? That was Enochian you spoke, but what did it do to Choronzon and Jim Caviezel?”

“Mills, my dear,” I replied, “that was not only Enochian, but it was -- when empowered by the supreme force of Love -- the proper conjuration to banish Choronzon and to suitably punish his adherents. It was, as I told you before, ‘lost’ upon this planet. Nevertheless, it was secretly retained by the Kosmikos of Algol and communicated to all senior agents. Its result is to condemn those who would call forth the demon of dispersion to the only penalty proper to such an offence -- total scattering of their very life-force to the furthest reaches of Time and Space. In short, the being once known as Jim Caviezel, failing actor and active anti-Semite, is no more!”

“So what next, Daniel?” enquired Millie Drake as we exited the convention centre into that Atlantic City evening. “We still need to find out who empowered Caviezel, don’t we?”

“Quite so, love,” I affirmed. “That is a dark mystery we shall definitely soon endeavour to unravel. But first, there is certainly time to stop by Tony’s Baltimore Grill for some pizza, hmmm?”

***** DANIEL RUMANOS AND MILLIE DRAKE SHALL RETURN

SHADOWS OF ALGOL

In the dim, fog-shrouded streets of New York City, where the neon lights flicker like dying stars and the whispers of ancient secrets echo through the alleyways, I, Doctor Daniel Rumanos, found myself once again entangled in the web of the uncanny. As a descendant of the Watchers of Algol -- that enigmatic race of interstellar beings whose blood courses through my veins, granting me insights beyond mortal ken -- I have long served as a guardian against the forces that lurk in the shadows. My companion in these ventures, the ever-resourceful Millie Drake, my assistant and fellow investigator, stood by my side, her keen intuitions a perfect counterpoint to my own otherworldly intellect.

It began on a chill autumn evening, as the city prepared for the veil between worlds to thin with the approach of All Hallows' Eve. We had received a cryptic summons from an old acquaintance, Professor Elias Thorne, a reclusive archaeologist known for his obsession with pre-Sumerian artifacts. His message, scrawled in trembling handwriting on parchment that smelled faintly of brimstone, read: "The Amulet awakens. Shadows consume. Come at once—before it claims us all."

Millie and I arrived at Thorne's cluttered brownstone in Greenwich Village just as the clock struck midnight. The door creaked open on its own, revealing a hallway lined with dusty tomes and bizarre relics. Thorne himself was nowhere in sight, but a trail of overturned books led us to his study. There, amidst shattered glass and toppled shelves, we found him—or what was left of him. His body lay crumpled on the Persian rug, his face frozen in a rictus of terror, eyes wide as if staring into the abyss. Clutched in his rigid hand was an ornate amulet, carved from a shimmering black stone that seemed to absorb the light around it. Etched upon its surface were symbols that pulsed with an eerie, inner glow -- symbols I recognized from the forbidden Algolite texts.

"Daniel," Millie whispered, her voice steady despite the horror, "this isn't just murder. Look at his skin -- it's... desiccated, like something drained the life from him."

I knelt beside the corpse, my alien senses tingling. A faint psychic residue clung to the air, a malevolent energy that spoke of extradimensional intrusion.

"The Amulet of Zaroth," I murmured, recalling the legends. "An artifact said to bridge our world with the void realms of our Aeternusion ancestors. Thorne must have unearthed it during his last expedition to the Mesopotamian ruins. But why activate it now?"

As if in answer, the amulet hummed to life in Thorne's grasp. Shadows in the room began to writhe, coalescing into eldritch tendrils that snaked toward us. Millie Drake dodged nimbly, grabbing a nearby silver candlestick -- pure silver, a ward against certain entities. I channeled my inner power, our Algolite heritage allowing me to project a barrier of ethereal light. The shadows recoiled, but not before one brushed against my arm, sending a jolt of icy dread through my veins. Visions flooded my mind: Thorne, in a fit of hubris, reciting an incantation to summon knowledge from beyond. Instead, he had opened a portal, inviting a shadow entity -- a Devourer of Souls -- to feast upon the living.

We fled the study, the amulet in my jacket pocket, its weight like a black hole pulling at reality. Outside, the city seemed altered; pedestrians moved with unnatural jerks, their eyes glazing over as if possessed. The entity was spreading, using the amulet as an anchor to infiltrate minds and drain essences. Millie Drake, ever the pragmatist, suggested we consult the archives at the New York Public Library's restricted section -- a place where I had hidden several Algolite grimoires.

Under the cover of night, we slipped into the library, using my stage magician's skills to bypass security. In the dimly lit vault, I pored over the texts while Millie monitored the amulet, which now throbbed like a heartbeat. The grimoires revealed the truth: The Amulet of Zaroth was no mere relic; it was a fragment of a shattered star from the Algol system, infused with the essence of a banished Watcher who had turned to darkness. To seal it, one needed a ritual involving blood of a pure Algolite elder -- my blood -- and a counter-chant performed at the stroke of dawn.

Nevertheless, time was against us. As we prepared, the shadows converged. The library's halls filled with whispers, books flying from shelves as the Devourer manifested. It took form as a towering silhouette, eyes like voids, tendrils lashing out. Millie fought valiantly, using an improvised talisman from a nearby exhibit to deflect attacks. I began the chant, using the digital blood sample stored within my transonic mezuzah and letting the energy fall upon the amulet. Pain surged through me as the entity resisted, probing my mind with visions of cosmic horror—worlds devoured, stars extinguished.

"Hold on, Daniel!" Millie cried, her voice anchoring me. With a final invocation, I thrust the amulet into a beam of emerging dawn light filtering through a high window. The shadow screamed, a sound like tearing fabric, and dissolved into nothingness. The amulet cracked, its power neutralized, crumbling to dust in my hand.

Whilst the Sun rose, restoring normalcy to the city, Millie and I shared a weary embrace. Thorne's death was a tragedy, but we had prevented a catastrophe that could have engulfed New York in eternal night. Such are the burdens of the Watchers' legacy -- eternal vigilance against the mysteries that dwell beyond the veil.

None the less, as we left the library, a faint whisper lingered in my ear, a promise of greater threats to come. For in the vast cosmos, the shadows never truly die; they merely wait for the next fool to summon them.

***** DANIEL RUMANOS AND MILLIE DRAKE SHALL RETURN

HOUDINI

“Apparently, the DiTraS has been working only by remote control by the Watchers for some time,” I opined.

“But why, Daniel?” replied my companion, Miss Millie Drake. “We have always been loyal agents of the Kosmikos. Don’t they trust us after all that?”

“Well, my dear Mills,” I rejoined, “you know that our people are a rather suspicious lot as it is, hmmm? They are distrustful and apprehensive about anything that is not completely within their vision. That being the case, it makes sense that the Absolute Convention would decide that even the activities of a government-approved espionage organisation should be monitored and covertly controlled.”

We are at our secret headquarters, located as it is in an hidden chamber within the golden trapezoidal rooftop of the Gateway Hotel Atlantic City (this following our move from a similar location in a certain other American east coast metropolis). In addition to our computer equipment, and the DiTraS itself (which is pronounced “DYE-tress” and stands for Dimensional Transport Sphere) -- its outer “Roman column” appearance disguising its true nature as a combination Spaceship/Time-machine -- the HQ houses numerous relics and books that have been collected during our career as investigators of bizarre phenomenon upon Earth and elsewhere.

I was clad in my usual finery, including a frilled poet shirt, purple velvet suit, and jungle boots. My panama hat and one of my favourite opera capes hung from a near by hallstand.

Millie Drake is an exquisitely beautiful young lady; petite and perfect with luxurious chestnut hair, lovely violet eyes, and sun kissed skin. The royal blue dress she wore only served to highlight her slender adolescent figure.

Also with us was Kit-10, our mobile personal computer that resembles nothing more or less than a small robotic cat. At the moment, she was busy monitoring some information from one of the computer consoles.

I continued to look at the readout of my transonic turnscrew, itself an highly sophisticated scientific instrument resembling in physical form a writing pen.

“According to the transonic,” I continued, returning the instrument to my jacket pocket, “the DiTraS will not now function as a travel vehicle except when the powers of the Watchers of Algol activate its Temporal-Spatial engines.”

[DiTraS ("DYE-tress"): Dimensional Transport Sphere; a Spaceship/Time-machine of our people, the Watchers of Algol.]

“So we’re stranded on Earth?” queried Millie.

“More or less,” I replied. “At least until the Kosmikos or the Convention needs our expertise elsewhere, hmmm? I would imagine that the Universal Overseer has a control mechanism as well, and…”

“Information has been received s--,” suddenly interrupted Kit-10 in her simulated yet pleasantly-feminine voice. “It concerns the theft from the AC Bookshop.”

(It should be noted here that Kit-10, along with her other catlike characteristics, is completely incapable of openly showing respect for anyone. In point of fact, the closest she ever comes to it is by addressing me by a slight “s--” sound -- for “sir” -- and Millie by “m--” -- for “ma’am”.)

“Oh yes,” said Millie. “That antique occult book that was stolen from the shop downtown. Kit-10 was getting the information we needed on its exact description. So what was it, Kit-10?”

“The book has been positively identified, m--,” rejoined the mechanical kitten, “as the exceedingly rare text known as The Houdini Codex.”

“By the Daemonian Spires!” I swore. “The Houdini Codex! It appears our forced ‘exile’ on this planet is going to be interesting at least, hmmm?” …

“The Houdini Codex?” repeated Millie Drake. “As in Harry Houdini? The famous magician Houdini? Really?”

“Quite so,” I affirmed. “The late great illusionist and escape artist himself. He was born 1874 in Appleton, Wisconsin, of Hungarian-Jewish descend, his birth name being Erik Weizs. His father was a rabbi, you know, and did some research into Kabala and other forms of Jewish mysticism. Harry Houdini later found the notes the old man had left on the subject and had them privately printed into a book, which he termed The Houdini Codex. His purpose in this was to use it as a prop in some of his stage routines, but he found that to not be a wise idea, hmmm?”

“Why? What happened?”

“Well, my dear Mills, it seems the Cabalistic words assembled in the book had some true occult powers, and that they could be utilised to evoke certain ancient forces, most likely of the type known from the Solomonic Magics; forsooth the so-called cacodemonic entities which we know to be the psychic remnants of certain eldritch extraterrestrial beings. Even the very presence of The Houdini Codex is said to have caused weird manifestations. Houdini put the book away in his private collection at his New York City townhouse, and it seems to have disappeared after his death in 1926. Apparently, it found its way into the antique books market and eventually ended up in that shop here in Atlantic City!”

“So now it’s been stolen,” Millie pondered. “Who would do that, and why?”

“The book’s monetary value,” I answered, “although considerable, is no more than many other rare volumes -- so it is likely someone who believes they can utilise The Houdini Codex to conjure preternatural forces, hmmm? Someone who believes they have the ability to utilise those forces for their own gain; someone who finds the added act of villainy in stealing the book to assist in the moral outrage useful in summoning forth the powers of darkness.”

“Oh my gosh! Do you think it could be… ?”

“Now now, Millie’” I admonished. “Let us not attempt to theorise without more evidence. Unfortunately, the book shop had no security cameras, so for now we have very little in clues as to the identity of the thief.”

“So what can we do?” worried the young lady.

“We can at least do a scan of the entire area and find out if anyone is accessing such powers. Then perhaps we can…”

Kit-10 suddenly interrupted, “Danger, s--. Systems detecting unusual energy surges entering the premises.”

“Daniel, look!” added Millie Drake.

I whirled around to see what had upset my friend, and beheld an horror indeed. Forming in the air above us, right there in that chamber of our headquarters, was what appeared as a swirling mass of ebony black energy -- in truth a darksome conglomeration of horrid occult powers. As we watched, it grew larger and larger, and began to hover closer to us. As it approached, its true nature became more apparent, as we saw flashes of numerous horrifying entities, eldritch shapes as of things otherworldly; things with tentacles and antennae and hideous glowing eyes along with other supernatural terrors beyond description -- indeed things beyond any sane imaginings.

I pulled out my transonic device and tried several settings against the darkling horror, and Kit-10 fired several shots of her nose-laser at it; but all this was to no avail. It continued to approach closer and closer to us, its appearance now being augmented with an hellish howling sound like unto that of thousands of infernal curs.

With this, I heard Millie Drake scream as the demoniacal terror reached us. …

Little did we know that, at that very same time, a quite odd event was transpiring at a near by street corner. For at this location, an apparent “busker” or street performer had set up his show. It was obviously a stage magic act, and the performer himself was dressed accordingly in a shiny black silk suit and matching full-length cape. He stood before what appeared to be a Victorian-era gaslight lamppost, which was several metres behind him and look strangely out-of-place in the modern street setting.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he announced, his voice with a tinge of mocking madness, “welcome to the most amazing presentation you shall ever experience! Yes, right here today, on the streets of Atlantic City, I -- The New Houdini -- with the help of my assistant, Elmer, shall conjure forth the very forces of eternal darkness!”

The magician was a man seemingly of middle years, his face still showing signs of handsome distinction despite being marked with the influence of lifetimes of extreme unhallowed evil. His hair was long and dark, and his countenance decorated with a thin moustache and goatee. Most of all, his pale eyes shone with an irresistibly hypnotic glare.

It was then that the magician’s “assistant” loped out to stand beside him. This was what appeared at first to be a large and strangely deformed man, but a closer look at him revealed his true hybrid nature. His dark skin was covered with coarse orange-brown hair, his arms reached to his knees, and his visage was an absolute simian horror. Incongruously, he was clad in a pair of colourful Bermuda shorts.

“This, my friends, is The Houdini Codex,” continued the magician, indicating a large antique book that he had set up on a lectern, “and it is from this volume that I shall utter the ancient words to summon forth the most amazing and incredible sights to ever meet human eyes!”

Whilst the magician was speaking, the apelike Elmer loped off down the street, his hands dragging the pavement, as if on some sudden mission. …

Millie Drake, Kit-10 and I were driving down the city street in my specially-modified canary-yellow Edwardian roadster (affectionately known as “Lizzie”).

“That dark force that attacked our headquarters dispersed quickly,” I said. “It was only meant as a warning, and the full power of what is being evoked will be far more dangerous.”

“So the transonic was able to trace from whence the thing came?” asked Millie.

“Quite so,” I affirmed. “It was emanating from the corner of Atlantic Avenue and Ohio Avenue, hmmm? Let us stop the car a couple of blocks away and approach that location with caution.”

We did so, alighting from the car and beginning to walk down the street.

“Millie, Kit-10, be vigilant,” I warned. “Whomever is doing this must be a practitioner of some power, and…”

“Oh my gosh, Daniel!” suddenly cried Millie. “Look out!!”

Before I could even react, what had so frightened the young lady was upon me. It was a large apelike man clad in a pair of incongruous Bermuda shorts. His incredible strength sent me hurtling to the ground.

I quickly reacted, utilising my mastery of Daemonian jujitsu in order the throw the creature from me.

“Kit-10!” I called. “Stun him!”

With this, the robotic cat shot a blast of her nose laser, causing the ape-man to fall unconscious to the pavement.

“Daniel, are you all right?” worried Millie Drake. “What is that thing?”

“I am unharmed, love,’ I assured her. “My attacker appears to be a native of a certain village of Borneo that is known for its orang-utan prostitutes. An ape-human hybrid, in other words. Hideous, hmmm?”

“But what is it doing here?”

“Likely our foe is using it for protection, hmmm? We have seen such use of similar creatures by Spectral Paranormal agents in the past.”

My companions and I then continued with our mission, approaching the street corner. We soon enough beheld the magician, still announcing his intentions to the small audience that had gathered, standing as he was before the strange lamppost and beside the lectern on which was The Houdini Codex.

Of course, I recognised the magician immediately. I recognised him as my oldest and most deadly enemy -- the renegade Algolite who has become the most dangerous criminal in all of Time and Space.

“Don Wingus!” I said his name as we approached. “I should have known. So you did escape from Muskelon.”

“Greetings, Rumanos and Miss Drake,” he sneered. “You are just in time. I hope you did not harm my assistant Elmer too much. He has such a fine hairy hole.”

“Wingus, you ungodly fiend!” I charged. “Even you cannot control the powers of The Houdini Codex. The are demonic forces beyond imagining.”

“Oh, but you are wrong in that, Rumanos,” chuckled the villain. “You are wrong, as you shall now see!”

With this, the evil Don Wingus waved his hands and an huge conglomeration of darksome demoniacal terrors suddenly appeared, racing directly to-wards my friends and me.

“Now, Doctor Daniel Rumanos,” continued Wingus. “You shall die! I shall use the powers of The Houdini Codex in order to establish myself as ruler of this world, but first -- you shall die!”

I wonder, my dear friends and most appreciated readers, if you can even commence to comprehend the unspeakable and unheard-of horror, forsooth the complete and utter screaming terror of the situation in which we then found ourselves. There we were; the beautiful Miss Millie Drake, the robotic Kit-10, and me -- Doctor Daniel Rumanos. There we were, the only thing standing in the way of that obscene intergalactic villain in his latest scheme to establish himself as supreme ruler of planet Earth. There we were -- with the full force of the awesome and legendary powers of The Houdini Codex, under the command of the infamous Algolite criminal known to eternal damnation as Magister Don Wingus, racing directly to-wards us!!

“This is your end, Rumanos!” repeated the evil Don Wingus. “You shall die, and I shall go on to rule this world!”

Then, just as the horrid conglomeration of demonic powers was about to reach my companions and me, a quite odd thing occurred. The ape-man assistant known as Elmer suddenly loped back onto the scene, having recovered from Kit-10’s stun blast. He went up to Don Wingus with a look as of strange supplication, and then began muttering what amounted to an heartfelt apology for failing in his mission against us.

“Millie,” I said, “the distraction will cause Wingus to lose control of the powers. Look! They are reversing!”

As the darksome terror barrelled down on them, Don Wingus suddenly ran behind Elmer the ape-man. The entire force of the eldritch black conglomeration surrounded the primitive creature, and within a split second consumed him before itself vanishing into nothingness.

Just then, we saw Wingus approaching the strange lamppost. As he did, a type of porthole-like opening appeared in it and the villain stepped through it. The opening quickly closed behind him.

“Daniel, that’s his DiTraS!” cried Millie. “He’s escaping!”

With the strange gasping and moaning sound of its activated engine, Magister Don Wingus’s Time-Spaceship began to fade from view. I quickly pulled the transonic turnscrew from my jacket and pointed it at the supposed lamppost. The disguised machine then made noise a like something had burst in its insides, before it finally vanished entirely.

“Daniel,” said Millie, “what did you do?”

“I simply transferred the information stored in my transonic concerning how the Watchers disabled the engine of our DiTraS, hmmm?” said I whilst returning the device to my pocket. “If Wingus manages to re-materialise his own ship from the inter-dimensional vortex, it will be somewhere on Earth, and he will find himself unable to activate the dematerialisation circuitry again.”

“So he will be stranded here the same as we are?” asked Millie Drake, who glanced over to verify that Kit-10 was unharmed as well.

“Quite so,” I affirmed, “and as unfortunate as it is to have to curse the Earthlings with his presence, at least we will be able to keep an eye on him, hmmm? Indeed, we will have to keep a vigilant lookout for his possible return.”

“And what about the book?”

I walked over and removed the volume from the lectern. “I will immediately inform the AC Bookshop that we have located it, hmmm? Then I shall also pay its full retail value, along with some extra, to the proprietor there. The Houdini Codex will then become a fitting addition to our own library of texts on black magic and the occult.”

***** DANIEL RUMANOS AND MILLIE DRAKE SHALL RETURN

PLANET OF THE REPLICANTS

"The planet… Muskelon,” I said. “That is where we have materialised. A strange world it is. It is… surrounded by a natural radiation barrier, which can only be breached by… ships as advanced as ours. In addition, the core of the planet is filled with a type… of liquid ice, hmmm? Due to its particular… qualities, the ice reaches almost absolute zero but does not… freeze into a solid. Aside from that, Muskelon is a quite lush… forest world.”

There in the café-like control room of our DiTraS (which is pronounced “DYE-tress” and stands for Dimensional Transport Sphere); one of those incredibly-advanced combination Spaceship/Time-machines only available to our people, the Watchers of the Daemon-Star Algol, I was clad in my usual finery -- including a frilled poet shirt, velvet suit, jungle boots, panama hat, and one of my favourite opera capes -- but I must admit I was not quite my usual self. You see, I was still suffering from the effects of having been shot by an energy weapon wielded by a cloaked agent of the occult terrorist organisation known as Spectral Paranormal. Immediately after this occurrence, my companion and I had received a mysterious assignment from the Kosmikos of Algol that necessitated our quick departure in a voyage through the Time-Space Current.

“Any idea why the Kosmikos would send us here?” enquired my companion, the lovely Millie Drake.

(Millie is an exceedingly beautiful young lady; petite and perfect with luxurious chestnut hair, enchanting violet eyes, and sun-kissed skin. The purple dress she wore only served to highlight the wondrous shape of her slender teenage figure.)

“Not as yet,” I admitted. “They are operating the DiTraS under… remote control, and we shall have to… have to…”

With this, I fell to the floor of the control room.

“Oh my gosh!” cried Millie. “Daniel! Are you all right?!”

“Hmmm…” I said, barely holding on to consciousness. “It appears the effect of that energy blaster caused more… internal damage than I at first thought. I will need more time to… heal and recover. Fortunately, the DiTraS shall be able to… help in that, hmmm?”

A golden illumination then issued forth from the control counter and surrounded me, creating a type of bed and blanket of light.

“Worry not… my dear Mills,” said I before drifting into a sort of coma. “All will be well… in time.”

“My gosh,” wept the young lady. “Please be well soon, Daniel. I don’t know if I can…”

Millie Drake’s words were then interrupted by an alarm sound issuing from the control board. She hurried over to it and activated the view-screen. On it was an image of several tall silver manlike beings in what was obviously the control centre of their own spaceship.

“We are entering the atmosphere of the planet Muskelon,” said one of them in its droning emotionless voice. “Our associated controller has succeeded in permitting our passage through the radiation field.”

“Oh my goodness!” said Millie as the video image then faded from view. “Leknii Replicants! But what are they doing here?!” …

Millie Drake checked on me, lying as I was on the golden light sickbed that the DiTraS had provided. She saw that I was still unconscious.

Millie then turned around because she heard a slight whispering sound. It was the noise of the opening of the DiTraS doorway, which appears in a porthole-like form. She hurried over to it and looked out, beholding the thick green forest of the planet Muskelon.

“It’s like the DiTraS wants me to go investigate the planet,” wondered Millie. “Or is it the Kosmikos urging me to continue the mission? I don’t want to leave Daniel here alone, but maybe there is something out there that can help him. I’ll just go a short way outside and look around.”

With this, Millie Drake stepped out of the porthole onto the surface of the alien world. She walked several metres through the forest, away from the DiTraS (the exterior of which resembles a Roman column), soon losing sight of our ship amongst the lush greenery.

Suddenly, before Millie could even react, she found herself held tightly by something. It was a mass of numerous vines that had surrounded her form, and which were dragging her farther into the extraterrestrial foliage.

Millie Drake then screamed when she realised that she was being dragged into the gaping mouth of an huge carnivorous plant!!

Millie then quickly reached into an hidden pocket of her dress and pulled out an object like a thin cosmetics container, which is actually an highly advanced scientific device known as the transonic lip-gloss. She activated it and the instrument emitted a sharp electronic whine. With this, the vines released their hold and the young lady jumped away from them, avoiding the hideous mouth of the carnivorous plant.

“So it looks like this forest is kind of dangerous itself,” she mused to herself, returning the device to its pocket. “But why are the Replicants coming to this planet, and who helped them to pass the radiation barrier? Gosh, I wish Daniel were here!” …

I awoke on the floor of the DiTraS, discovering that the golden light bed had vanished from sight. I quickly rose to my feet.

“Spires of Daemonia!” I exclaimed. “I appear to have completely recovered, hmmm? The DiTraS has done an excellent job of stimulating my own Algolitish powers of self-healing.”

I hurried over to the control counter and checked the message system, soon discovering the video of the Replicants, which I replayed.

“The Replicants of Leknii!” said I. “So that is why the Kosmikos sent us here. Of course! The old legend from the Replicant Wars -- the one of an army waiting by an ocean of ice. Millie, we shall have to take care of this right away, and…”

It then, for the first time, occurred to me that Millie Drake was not present on the ship.

“By the Triple Star!” I swore. “She should not have gone out by herself!”

I took my own transonic turnscrew, the highly-advanced scientific instrument somewhat resembling a writing pen, from the pocket of my jacket and quickly scanned it over the control counter for a few moments before returning it to my coat. I then activated the porthole and stepped out of the DiTraS onto the planet Muskelon. …

Far outside my viewpoint, Millie Drake had continued her lonely trek through the forest, now being careful not to get to close to any of the surrounding foliage. She had as yet seen no signs of the presence of the Replicants of Lekni, and was about to return to the DiTraS when she heard the sound of a blaster gunshot form behind her, and ray of energy hitting the ground near her feet.

Millie whirled around and beheld a figure then emerging from the forest, clad in a black coverall garment and indeed holding a sleek energy blaster gun. He was seemingly a man of middle years, his countenance still showing signs of handsome distinction despite being marked with the effects of lifetimes of extreme unspeakable iniquity. His hair was long and dark, and his face decorated with a thin moustache and goatee. Most of all, his pale eyes shone with an absolute mesmerising glare.

“Greetings, Miss Drake,” he said, his voice a wicked mockery, “or perhaps I should say Madame Rumanos. Yes, I did hear of you two manifesting the Pure Mystery in Brooklyn, so congratulations -- or ‘mazel tov’ if you prefer.”

With this, the evil villain known as Magister Don Wingus levelled the blaster gun at Millie!

Just then, I arrived on the scene and, with a quick kung fu kick, sent the gun hurtling from the grasp of Don Wingus to be lost amongst the greenery.

“Don Wingus,” I said, facing him. “I should have known. So you did escape from the horror of Robopederosis. It was you that attempted to assassinate me back on Earth -- and you that assisted the Replicants in passing the radiation barrier that surrounds Muskelon!”

“Oh bravo, Rumanos, bravo,” mocked the criminal. “Your powers of deduction are only matched by your ability to recover from injuries. Nevertheless, it matters not. You and your precious Kosmikos are far too late to stop what the Leknii are planning. For indeed, waiting in hibernation underneath this planet is an army of ten millions of them!”

I stood facing Wingus with Millie Drake safely behind me, but could not help but look up slightly and see the looming shape of the Leknii rocket-ship far up in the sky.

“So the legend from the Replicant Wars was indeed of a regiment they left behind on Muskelon, hmmm?” I pondered. “A regiment kept in hibernation in case the Leknii forces had need of them. Nevertheless, the final war ended before they had a chance to activate their reserves, hmmm? They have been here ever since, waiting near the icy core of Muskelon.”

“Quite so, Rumanos,” answered Don Wingus. “Quite so, and now my Replicant associates shall be arriving on this world to awaken them, an army that they shall use to go forth and conquer galaxies, converting all compatible humanoid races to their own cybernetic kind.”

Millie spoke, “But why are you helping them?”

“Quite so, Wingus,” I added. “What exactly is in this for you, hmmm?”

“I have made a deal with the Leknii Replicants,” Wingus explained. “All non-compatible species shall be mine to rule -- including our own Algolite Race! With the aid of the ever-growing Replicant armies, I shall be emperor of the universe!”

With this, there was the shimmering light of matter transmit beams around us, and within seconds, we found ourselves surrounded by several tall silver Replicants!

Can you see the absolute horror, forsooth the unholy terror of this situation, my dear friend and readers? There we were, my companion Millie Drake and me, Doctor Daniel Rumanos, facing the emotionless eldritch horror of the Replicants of Lekni -- assisted as they were by the renegade Algolite known to eternal infamy as Magister Don Wingus. There we were -- as the cybernetic Replicant terrors planned to revive an army of ten millions of their type -- a long-forgotten army they intended to utilise in order to invade countless worlds and to convert all compatible humanoid beings into their own soulless and unfeeling kind!

“Wingus, you ungodly fiend!” I charged. “You cannot do this! The Replicants are totally unfeeling. To set an army of them free amongst the galaxies is a crime unthinkable even for you!”

“Oh, do prattle on, Rumanos,” chuckled Don Wingus. “It is to no use. The deal is made, the Replicant army will be reactivated, countless others will be converted -- and the universe shall be mine!”

A device like a tall cabinet had appeared next to one of the Replicants. On it was a video screen that was now activated.

“The sequence has begun,” said the Replicant. “Our army is awakening.”

On the screen could be descried what appeared to be an enormous cavern, filled with myriads of silver manlike forms -- forms that now started to stir and move. Indeed, the horrid army of ten millions of Leknii was now reactivated!

“Oh my goodness, Daniel!” cried Millie Drake. “What are we going to do?!”

“It is too late, Rumanos!” mocked the evil Don Wingus. “The Replicant army lives, and you cannot stop them.”

Then a whirring sound was heard from within my pocket. It was the sound of the transonic turnscrew. With this, something odd indeed began to occur on the video screen. The very side of the cavern began to collapse and, within a few seconds, a rush of roaring liquid foamed into the area.

“What!” exclaimed Wingus. “What is this? Rumanos, what have you done?!”

“I previously scanned the DiTraS systems database concerning the elements of the planet with my transonic, hmmm?” I explained. “I programmed it to release the liquid ice into the cavern should the Replicant army begin to awaken. It will surround them and freeze then utterly for aeons to come.”

By now, the sight of the defeated army had vanished from the video screen and, within a few seconds, the Leknii surrounding us had activated the matter transmission beams and thus exited the planet.

“It is over, Wingus,” I announced. “The Replicants have been defeated, and have now abandoned you!”

“Yes, they have returned to their ship,” answered Wingus, “but they will not escape. Look!”

I glanced upwards to where Wingus was suggesting, and beheld an explosion.

“The radiation barrier!” I guessed. “You set it to once again become detrimental to the Replicant rocket-ship should they attempt to leave the planet without you, hmmm? They have now been destroyed.”

“Daniel, look out!” cried Millie Drake.

Whilst I had been distracted, Wingus had taken to opportunity to attempt an assault upon my person. I quickly countered this and we struggled for a few moments. Then, my final self-defence technique sent the villain hurtling a few metres away from me, where he suddenly found himself surrounded by hideous grasping vines.

“No!” he bellowed. “No! Nooooooooo!!”

Within moments, the huge carnivorous plant had pulled Don Wingus into its hideous mouth. His cries diminished into a slight gurgle, and then there was silence.

Then Millie Drake ran into my arms.

“Oh, Daniel!” she exclaimed. “I’m just so glad you’re all right! Are you really completely healed from that energy gunshot wound?”

“Quite so, love,” I assured her. “In fact, I have never felt better.”

“So are the Replicants and Don Wingus really gone?”

I took the transonic turnscrew from my jacket and used it to scan the area.

“So it appears,” I announced, returning the device to my pocket. “There is no sign of either of them.”

“So did that carnivorous plant really eat him?” asked Millie. “Could it digest him that quickly?”

“Perhaps, unless he had another escape plan. It is possible that he had some residual connection to the Leknii matter transmission system, and could have utilised it to transport to his own ship hidden somewhere near by. But there is no indication of him remaining here, so let us leave this planet and go on to find out what our next assignment may be, hmmm?”

Millie Drake and I had by now returned to the DiTraS, and we both stepped through the porthole. Soon the gasping moaning sound of our ship’s Space-Time engine was heard, and the shape of the Roman column dematerialised from the surface of the strange planet known as Muskelon.

***** DANIEL RUMANOS AND MILLIE DRAKE SHALL RETURN