The Horsemen Gather: An Urban Fantasy Action Adventure (The Unbelievable Mr. Brownstone Book 17)

by Michael Anderle

James glanced down to make sure he hadn’t leaked any blood onto his diced onions before shaking his pan slightly. “Music? What about it?”

  “We need to decide on music for the wedding and reception. You barely listen to music unless you’re counting the first few seconds of podcasts, so it’s hard to know what will annoy you. I’ve collected samples of all sorts of types of music I like, instrumental and otherwise.”

  James furrowed his brow. “Not only do I not listen to music much, I don’t really care much about music, either.”

  The pan sizzled.

  Shay smirked. “Is that because you can’t put sauce on it and eat it?”

  James grunted. “I’m not saying that’s the reason, but that is true.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” Shay sighed and scrolled on her phone with her thumb. “You don’t have any strong preferences then, pro or con? Just something to narrow the choices?”

  “Yeah, no strong preferences. You do what you want.”

  “You should never say that. It gives me ideas.” Shay gave him an evil grin.

  “Ideas?” James replied. “Like what?

  “Kilomea mariachi band. That would be different. Maybe even epic.”

  James shook his onions again before blinking and turning back toward Shay. It’d taken him a moment to parse what his fiancée had said. “Kilomea mariachi band?”

  Shay nodded. “Those were the words that came out of my mouth, yes.”

  “Do they even have Kilomea mariachi bands? I don’t think I’ve seen one ever, either in southern California or Mexico. Not saying they don’t exist, but, shit…”

  “I don’t know.” Shay looked uncertain, the evil gleam fading from her eyes. “Maybe? Stranger things have happened. I don’t remember having seen any, but elf pitmasters used to not be a thing either. Shit, there are elves in heavy metal bands, so why not Kilomea in mariachi bands?”

  “True enough.” James furrowed his brow. “I kind of like the idea. At least it wouldn’t be boring.”

  Shay laughed. “Okay, you called my bluff. We’re not gonna have a Kilomea mariachi band, even if such a thing exists.”

  “What are we going to have then?”

  Shay shrugged. “Still figuring that out since you’re not being helpful at all. It’s November, and we’re not getting married until the summer. We’ve got plenty of time to figure this out. It’s not like the world’s going to end before then.”

  James grunted. “If it did, it’d make things simpler.”

  “Don’t go cheering for the end of the world because you want to get out of wedding planning.”

  The next morning, James finished brushing his teeth and stepped out of the bathroom. After a little fun with Shay, he’d gone to bed early, so he felt extra-refreshed.

  Maybe another level four will pop up this afternoon and I can beat their ass down.

  Shay sat up in bed and stretched. “You got somewhere you need to run off to early today?”

  “I figured I’d take Thomas for a walk.” James headed to his closet to pull out some jeans and a t-shirt. He tossed them on the edge of the bed. “I don’t know if he’s getting enough exercise, especially with all that food he’s been eating. I’ve been thinking about installing an auto-launching frisbee system in the back so he can entertain himself when I’m inside. Or maybe some sort of pop-up bounty he can tackle.”

  “Oh, he’s fine.” Shay furrowed her brow and pointed to his finger. “You still have that tape on your finger? I thought you told me you were going to use Whispy to take care of that before you went to bed last night.”

  “I had other shit to handle, and I didn’t want to deal with him bitching before I went to sleep and putting me in a bad mood.” James held up his finger. No blood had seeped out from underneath the tape.

  “It doesn’t hurt at all?” Shay asked. “It’s not like you wore Whispy yesterday.”

  James stared at his finger. The digit had been a little sore the previous night, but now there was no pain. “Nope. It doesn’t hurt at all.”

  “Huh.” When James started pulling the tape off, there was still no pain. When he finally yanked the last piece off, the underlying skin was pale, but there was no sign he’d ever been injured. Not even a scratch. “I didn’t expect that shit.”

  Shay crawled toward him on the bed, her eyes narrowing. “I thought you said it was a pretty deep cut?”

  “It was.” James peered at his unwounded finger. “If I didn’t use Whispy, I’d need stitches or a potion.”

  “And you were more obsessed with your sauce preparation than first aid?”

  “Got to have priorities in life.”

  Shay hopped off the bed and walked over to James, grabbing his hand and turning it back and forth. “Fuck. It’s completely healed. I mean, it’s one thing when you’re wearing Whispy, even when he’s in his rest mode shit, but you didn’t even use him this time.”

  “It’s no big deal.” James grunted. “People heal even without alien amulets.”

  “They don’t nearly slice off their fingers and heal overnight without one of those or magic.” Shay released his hand. “Did he tell you he was going to do this kind of thing to you?”

  “You have to understand: he tells me shit, but it’s not always clear what he means.” James shrugged and dropped his hand. “And talking to him is like talking to a bitchy computer with a fucking mind of its own. He only cares about me getting tougher and the primary directives.”

  “The mutually conflicting ones?”

  “Yeah.”

  Shay frowned. “But he’s told you about alterations he’s going to do. You’d think he would have mentioned that you could heal a lot quicker even without him.”

  James nodded. “I think he can only do so much if I don’t want it. That’s probably why he needed to be able to talk to me. To get a lot of this shit working to begin with.”

  Shay sat down on the edge of the bed and crossed her legs, the bottom of her nightgown riding up slightly. “He didn’t ask for permission when he basically turned you from a Vax to a human. I mean, you’re human enough for basic human DNA tests to work on you. That’s a pretty fucking major change.”

  “I was a little kid, and he had just been turned on.” James grabbed his jeans and started pulling them on. “As far as he was concerned, it was an emergency, but I’m older now, and he doesn’t have control over me even though he’s supposed to. I’m supposed to just be his meat puppet where he’s doing all the shot-calling, but that shit didn’t work out for him. I know it pisses him off that he’s not in charge, but he gets that if he doesn’t do what I say, he’ll be shit out of luck.”

  “But if he’s changed you to the point that you have accelerated healing even without wearing him, I wonder how far he can push you now that you’re more in sync.”

  “A lot fucking further.” James buttoned his jeans. “If I’m supposed to be able to hold on out a planet by myself for a while before reinforcements show up, that means shit like near-complete regeneration without magical potions and not needing magic.”

  Shay’s face twitched. “But that thing’s powered normally by hate and anger.”

  “Yeah. So? That’s not a big mystery.”

  “And the whole magic-powering-it thing we figured out, and from what the Alliance assholes have said, magic isn’t common in the galaxy.” Shay frowned.

  James nodded. “Not following you.”

  “Does that mean that if Whispy was in control, he’d keep you on a rage drip all the time?”

  James frowned and thought it over. “But he can’t directly piss me off. He tells me to do shit, but it’s not like he floods my mind with anger and hatred or whatever.”

  “Maybe he could have when you were younger,” Shay replied. “Did you ever use it when you were a kid? After you got to Earth?”

  James shook his head. “Nope. I didn’t even have it for the longest time, and when the priests finally gave it back to me, I didn’t want to wear it. I couldn’t remember
everything from when I was younger, but I knew I didn’t trust that fucking amulet for some reason. For a long time, I thought it was cursed. I even talked to Father McCartney about that, but he told me it was just a piece of jewelry. He didn’t force me to wear it.”

  “And the first time you wore it? What happened then?”

  “I freaked the fuck out, but I also realized what it did: made me tougher and stronger.” James stared at the amulet sitting on his nightstand. “I understood what I could do with it, but I still thought it was cursed. I wondered if I should go talk to Father McCartney about it, but I decided against it.”

  Shay gave him a shallow nod. “Why?”

  “Because I didn’t want him to kick me out. I started thinking that if I have this cursed amulet, maybe it’s not just that I have it because I’m a bad person, but what if I were demonic or some shit like that?”

  Shay winced. “Geeze.”

  “After a while, I figured it didn’t matter.” James shrugged. “I figured if I did enough good and only used it when I had to deal with evil assholes, it wouldn’t matter. Even if it was a little evil, God would forgive me.” He let out a dark chuckle. “Not sure if it’s evil or not because it’s alien and not demonic, but if I can use it to beat down psycho assholes, I’m gonna continue using it.”

  “I’m not one to say anything about people being good or evil,” Shay replied quietly. “I spent most of my adult life as a cold-blooded killer, but I will tell you, the one thing I learned during that time is that any weapon, no matter how fancy, is just a tool in the end, and good or evil usually has a lot more to do with who is on the receiving end.”

  James grunted and slipped on the t-shirt. “I know. I don’t let this shit worry me much. Whispy’s gonna do his thing, and he hasn’t done anything that makes my life more complicated than it was before. Everyone else has done that.” He grabbed some socks from his dresser and started rolling them on. “And sometimes you just need to kick some fucking ass to make your point.”

  Shay chuckled. “I don’t disagree, James. I think even without the Whispy stuff, between your barbeque crap, my teaching, and the wedding, we’ve got plenty to keep us busy. It might just be that the amulet ends up changing you and it accomplishes nothing more than you being able to party for a few more hours during our reception.”

  James stared at Shay, an idea percolating in his head.

  Shay looked back at him, confused. “What?”

  “We should invite the top local mobsters to our wedding.”

  Shay blinked. “What did you just say? It sounded like you said we should invite the top mobsters to our wedding?”

  “Yeah,” James responded. “The more I think about it, the better the idea sounds.”

  “Why the fuck would you want to do that?”

  “My wedding’s gonna take all our guys off the streets. I don’t want people getting ideas.”

  Shay sighed. “It’s just a wedding, and the cops will still be around.”

  James grunted. “I don’t want them to have to deal with shit while we’re getting married. If we have the top local pieces of shit around, they’ll tell their boys to keep an eye on things because they don’t want to risk pissing me off on what’s supposed to be the happiest day of my fucking life.”

  Shay snort-laughed. “Are you basically saying you want to invite the heads of the local mobs to effectively hold them hostage at our wedding?”

  “Yeah. Why the fuck not?” James grinned. “That shit will be funny.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Shay pulled out of the college parking in her new Porsche, humming under her breath. She preferred her Fiat Spider, but it was nice to mix up her rides every now and again. She snickered as she remembered the old days and how she needed to explain away driving expensive sports cars on a part-time professor’s salary.

  Now it was easy. Anytime she had anything expensive, she just attributed it to a gift from James. Everyone in the world knew how rich he was, and they just assumed he was a very generous fiancé.

  Her phone rang. She glanced down at her console display; her phone was already interfaced with her car.

  “Smite-Williams?” Shay muttered. She hadn’t been expecting contact from him, but she answered the call on speakerphone. “What’s up, Professor?”

  “Good evening, Miz Carson,” he responded, his voice full of cheer, as always. “I’d like you to stop by as soon as possible so we could discuss a big job. It’s rather time-sensitive, so I’d really appreciate it if you could stop by tonight to discuss it.”

  Shay sighed. “I appreciate the call, but the timing is shit on this. You know I’m teaching this semester. I can’t just drop everything and go on a raid. Maybe something during winter vacation?”

  Smite-Williams laughed. “Aye, I understand your new schedule, but you forget: you might be a professor, but I’m the Professor.”

  Shay frowned as she turned onto the street and joined the dense flow of rush-hour traffic. “And what the hell does that mean in this particular context? I don’t have time for this Father O’Banion shit.”

  The Professor’s laughter faded to a chuckle. “It means, Miz Carson, that I share the same day job as you, and I also understand the relevant schedule. The job I have in mind shouldn’t be a lengthy one, provided you see to it quickly, and you have a nice Thanksgiving vacation coming up in mere days.”

  “No turkey, only bullets, blood, and artifacts?”

  “Aye. There might be turkeys where you’re going. I can’t guarantee there won’t be.”

  Shay sighed. “Okay. Whatever. Let me text James to let him know I’ll be late, and I’ll be right over.”

  “Thank you. That’s all I can ask.” He hung up.

  I hope I don’t end up regretting this, she thought darkly.

  Shay settled in across from the Professor after glancing over her shoulder and surveying the room for anyone who looked to be out of place. There were several men and women who didn’t seem to be having a good time, which made them suspicious at the Leanan Sidhe. The raucous atmosphere always seemed to intoxicate people even without the beer, and only people with something to hide, like Shay, didn’t give in to that atmosphere.

  High-priority jobs mean big risks. Better be careful the next few days even if I don’t end up taking the job.

  Shay finished her check of the room. None of the potential hostiles spared even the smallest glance her way. That didn’t mean she was safe, but it did cut down on the likely risk.

  “I’m here,” Shay commented. “So what’s the big job that I had to run over here to discuss tonight?”

  The Professor didn’t answer at first, instead taking a huge gulp of his beer. “You’ve previously recovered artifacts related to a vimana for me. Quite successfully, I might add.”

  Shay nodded. “Yeah. What about it? From what you told me before, you made it sound like you had a magical flying fortress stashed in a lake somewhere. You ready to buzz the Eiffel Tower with it?”

  “Hidden in a lake? I did give that impression, didn’t I?” A merry smile followed.

  Shay rolled her eyes. “Why bullshit me?”

  “It can be useful to keep people off-guard. You, of all people, should understand that, Miz Carson.”

  “Just tell me. Do you or do you not have a vimana? I’m here for a job offer, not games.”

  “Aye, but games are so fun.” The Professor sighed. “To offer complete honesty, no, I don’t actually have a vimana, small or large, parked anywhere, and now I’m interested in the ultimate prize, an actual vimana. In this case, it’s exactly as you described: a massive flying fortress powered by magic. It has likely not been in operation since the last time the gates opened. Even with the gates open, it still will require a huge amount of magic to be fed into it to get it to operate, and it will only be a shadow of what it could be at full capacity.”

  Shay furrowed her brow. “So, wait, you want me to go on a tomb raid to get a magical flying castle that you admit is huge an
d is going to need shitloads of magic to even work? How the hell am I supposed to pull that off? My pockets aren’t that big.”

  The Professor chuckled. “That would be impressive, but no, I’m not asking you to stick the vimana in your pocket or backpack. Technically it’s not the vimana you’ll be recovering, which is why this is a practical job offer.”

  “Another activation artifact? Some sort of magical fuel cell?”

  “Far simpler, yet more important.” The Professor grinned. “You’ll be recovering a map artifact that points to the current location of the vimana. I’m sure there will be some confusion based on how old the map is, but you don’t have to worry about that. I have other people to help with the final collection and launching of the vimana. It might be fine in its current location, but it’s important that we know where it is and have firm control of it as a future asset.

  “I should be able to fit a map in my backpack,” Shay replied with a smirk. “Do I need to take any special precautions?”

  The Professor shook his head. “No. I should note it’s a small glass sphere rather than the paper kind, just to be clear, but it’ll lead me to the vimana all the same.”

  “And why do you even need a vimana?” Shay asked.

  The Professor looked more amused than offended. “Worried I’ll try to pull a Gulliver’s Travels?”

  Shay snorted. “When I first heard of a vimana, I was thinking magical plane, and you immediately upgraded it to a magical castle, and now we’re all the way up to city? Maybe I should be worried.”

  “Ah, Miz Carson, I assure you that it’s nothing quite so grand.” The Professor’s easy smile remained on his face. “It’s just interesting that you now care so much. You’ve rarely expressed that much concern about what I might do with an artifact. I’m curious if this means you now don’t trust me.”

  “I don’t trust anyone on this planet except Alison and James, and she’s a teen who can be tricked, and James can be a little too honest for his own good.” Shay matched Smite-Williams’ smile with a predatory one of her own. “It’s not that I think you’re ready to go all Rhazdon, Professor. I just care a little more about the future now, so it doesn’t hurt to ask.”