The Unbelievable Mr. Brownstone Boxed Set One (Books 1-3): Feared By Hell, Rejected By Heaven, Eye For An Eye (The Unbelievable Mr. Brownstone Boxed Sets)

by Michael Anderle

  “Don’t worry. I had to have someone explain it to me, too. The short version is, after the house and property are sold, all that money will go into a trust for you. Once you turn eighteen you’ll have full access to those funds, but before then the money can only be spent on things that are for your use and upkeep. Not that I planned to do anything else; it’s for your protection.” James took the document from her and set it on an end table. “I’ll take care of getting everything sold, but you’ll need to go through the house and figure out what things are worth keeping.”

  “Okay, I understand.” Alison still looking a bit confused. “It’s just… Wow. I don’t even know where to start. I never thought I’d have to do this sort of thing until… Well, I guess it is what it is.”

  “I stopped by and did an initial evaluation,” Shay told them.

  Alison and James both asked. “You did?”

  She winked at James, but spoke to Alison. “If there’s one thing a field-archaeologist-slash-treasure-hunter is good at, it’s quickly identifying valuable things. Mostly it’ll be a matter of you figuring out what has sentimental value.” Her grin vanished. “That said, I spotted some items that I’m pretty sure are magical artifacts.”

  Alison’s eyes widened. “Magical artifacts? Seriously?”

  Shay looked at James, and he nodded. They needed to give Alison as much control as possible in this situation.

  It was her life.

  “I can easily sell them for you, if you want,” the woman offered. “We can get some good money for anything magical, even if it’s not super-powerful. I can also make sure they only get sold to decent people and not scumbags.”

  “But from selling the house and everything, I’ll have good money anyway, right?” Alison asked. “I mean, it’s not like I’ll need more money, if I understand all this.”

  “Nope,” James answered, the conviction in his voice removing any doubt Alison or Shay might have had.

  The girl sighed. “Then I don’t want to sell them. They must have belonged to Mom, and I want to keep them. If it’s okay?” She looked toward James, her eyes pleading.

  “Your choice, kid. We’ll keep them safe for you.”

  “Not in the warehouse,” Shay muttered. “I don’t like that place.”

  “You have a warehouse?” Alison asked.

  “Not exactly,” James replied. “But the stuff would be safer there than in a bank.”

  Shay glared at him, and he shrugged.

  “Okay, okay.” James put up his hands. “We’ll set up a safe deposit box and get a key for you, Alison.” He took a deep breath. The next part was the bigger deal. “In any case, you’ll have more than enough money to take care of you, but I don’t think that’s the most important thing we need to talk about.”

  Alison frowned. “What do you think is the most important thing?”

  “Your mother was powerful, which means you’re powerful—or at least half powerful, and that’s still pretty damn impressive, considering what she was capable of. I’ve looked into it, and I found a place I think might be good for you. The government’s pretty shi— Not great about handling a lot of this Oriceran stuff, but they do seem to know that control of power is better than suppression of use.”

  “I don’t understand. What are you talking about?”

  “There’s a school. It’s called the School of Necessary Magic. It’s a place where you could learn to control and manage the powers you have. A place where you’d be safe, and around kids your age.”

  Alison’s face fell. “You want to send me away?” she asked, the tremble in her voice revealing that she was scared.

  James shook his head. “You’ll have vacations, summer breaks, and parent weekends. You’ll spend those with me, or I’ll be there with you. I don’t want to send you away, but I can’t help you learn to control your magic. This school can, but it’s your decision in the end.”

  Alison looked down and gave a shallow nod. “It’s kind of weird.” She chuckled. “I can see souls—and I never thought that was weird because I grew up with it—but the idea of going to a magic school kind of freaks me out a little. My mom made me read all the Harry Potter books and the Arcane Academy series. They made magic schools seem so dangerous.”

  James laughed. “Just stories, kid. This is the real deal. And Los Angeles is plenty dangerous as is.” He shrugged. “You’ll do great, and I’ll be always ready to help you out.”

  “Me, too,” Shay told Alison.

  “And like I said, it’s your decision,” James said. “If you hate the school, you can come back and live with me full-time.”

  Alison moved closer and threw her arms around James, squeezing him tightly. “Thank you, Mr. Brownstone. Thank you for everything.”

  He patted her on the back. “You’re welcome, kid.”

  James sat out on his back deck, looking up into the stars and sipping a beer. He couldn’t help but wonder what the stars looked like from Oriceran. Astronomy had never interested him much; he’d always taken the stars in the sky for granted.

  Shay slid open the door leading to the deck and stepped out, closing the door. “You’re a damn good man, James Brownstone.”

  He grunted. “I think there are a lot of Harriken who’d disagree.”

  “I’m not all that interested in the opinions of ruthless gangsters who tortured a tied-up woman,” she told him, taking a seat near him. She grabbed his beer from his hand and took a swallow, the whole time daring him to say one word. She leaned back over to give it back to him.

  James didn’t miss a beat. “Just sayin’. The line between me and some of the guys I catch is pretty thin.”

  “You’re a guy who is helping a girl who needs it,” Shay told him firmly. “Just take the compliment, Brownstone. It’s not the end of the world if people actually like you and think you’re a nice guy.”

  “I’m just not sure about a lot of things. When it’s just me it’s easy, but with a kid everything will be different.” James sighed.

  “Welcome to parenthood.” Shay shrugged.

  “Do you think I’m doing the right thing, sending her to that school?”

  “I think that if she’s one-tenth as powerful as her mother she’ll need a safe place to explore that power, and that school sounds like the best place for that.” Shay pursed her lips. “Less concerned about that than the wish. When are you planning to tell her?”

  James shrugged. “I honestly don’t know. This was something her mom wanted for her, so that means I have to think about it like a parent. I’m playing this all by ear. I was an orphan raised by the Church. I don’t really know what it means to be a parent, let alone a parent who controls an actual freaking wish.”

  Shay chuckled darkly. “My parents were shit, which is probably why I went down the path I did.”

  James took a swallow of his beer as he gazed into the heavens. “I had no parents, and yours were horrible, Shay. With a bar that low, I don’t see how we can do worse.”

  3

  James Brownstone eyed his foe.

  He’d told himself he’d stop after annihilating the last nine, but he couldn’t help himself.

  He snatched a tenth pot sticker and threw it in his mouth, letting the savory flavor linger. Chinese food didn’t match the glories of good ol’ American barbeque, but no one could say it wasn’t tasty.

  “Damn, Brownstone.” Shay eyed him from across her dining room table. “I don’t get why you’re not fat, considering the way you eat.” The woman brushed a few rogue strands of dark hair out of her eyes.

  He covered his mouth. “Ass-kicking burns a lot of calories. It helps.”

  “True enough.”

  James glanced at the stairs. Alison had wandered to the guest room for some sleep about thirty minutes prior.

  He wanted to make sure that impressionable teenage ears did not overhear the conversation to follow.

  The girl was still getting over the loss of her mother and the betrayal of her father, and what she n
eeded now was stability and continuity. James was determined to provide that, although he was probably the last person who should be taking care of anyone.

  Even though he was still figuring out the whole foster parent/guardian role, the bounty hunter knew that showing weakness or uncertainty in front of the girl would only make her worry.

  He’d failed to save her mom from the Harriken, but he damn well wouldn’t fail her.

  “You said earlier you wanted to talk about the School of Necessary Magic,” James said, his deep and rumbling voice as intimidating as ever.

  To most people, at least. The woman on the other side of the table didn’t seem to mind.

  Shay nodded. “I decided to look into the school from my side of things.”

  “Why? You think I didn’t do a good job? I know how to check into shit, Shay. I’m a bounty hunter.”

  She eyed him with her lips pressed together. “Don’t get your panties in a twist, Brownstone. I don’t think you did a shitty job. I used to kill people for a living, so I have some dirtier sources of information than you might.”

  James offered a curt nod of acknowledgement.

  Shay’s new life as a field archaeologist was earning her money and a good reputation.

  She’d been reluctant to admit the truth about her past, but she now seemed a lot more comfortable discussing it with him. It was as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders.

  “What’d they find?” he asked.

  She moved her fork in a circle. “Nothing really. The government is supporting the school…in a good way.”

  He eyed her. “What would be a bad way?”

  Shay shrugged. “Using it to manufacture magical super-soldiers. MK Ultra II, that sort of thing.”

  James responded with one of his trademark grunts. “Okay, so it’s not a bad place. Seems safe.”

  He frowned.

  Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters had been a safe place too until they’d attacked it.

  “It’s not a hidden school for hated mutants or anything,” Shay interrupted his thoughts. “Too many kids there from powerful and important families. People might have issues with Oricerans, but at the end of the day everyone wants every advantage, and there’s no bigger advantage out there right now than magic.”

  James stared at Shay, not caring about the explanation as much as her first sentence.

  “How the hell did you know what I was thinking?” He scrubbed his face with a hand. “Wait, did you pick up some sort of mind-reading artifact on your last job?” The last thing Shay needed was unfiltered access to his mind.

  Shay snickered, a faint glint of amusement in her eyes. “It’s because you’re not that complicated. Did you forget that I was here for your stupid classics of super-hero cinema marathon last week?” She shrugged. “Though I agree with you… The originals, except for the third one, are way better than the remakes. The point is, Brownstone, I know how your mind works.”

  “Thinking you know and knowing are two separate things.”

  “Sure, sure. Keep telling yourself that.” She took a bite of her food. “Anyway, I was thinking about this the other day. I think I should go with you.”

  James furrowed his brow. “To the school?”

  “Yes, to the school.” She pointed her knife at him as if she were using it to make a point. “You don’t know how to act around normal people, Brownstone, or even non-normal people. You’ll probably insult someone and get turned into a toad or something.” She went back to eating.

  He grabbed another pot sticker, number eleven. “I’m not the person who beat down a random guy in the bar the night we met.”

  Shay glared at him. “That guy grabbed my ass. We aren’t talking a random accident, we are talking full-bore pinch-an-inch. He got what was coming to him.” She held up a hand. “Let me rephrase my earlier statement. I’m coming with you. Alison needs all the help she can get, and as her aunt I insist I go.”

  He grabbed number twelve. “Whatever. The more, the merrier. I’ll have to let them know you’re coming. They were clear about specifying exactly who would visit, and said if I didn’t do that we wouldn’t be able to find the school.”

  “Huh?” She looked up and grabbed the last pot sticker before Cro-Magnon Man snagged them all. “You mean you wouldn’t be allowed in?”

  James shook his head. “Nope. They said I wouldn’t be able to find the school.”

  Jiro Ikeda walked down the dimly-lit hallway. Tattooed men in dark suits lined the entire length; his brothers, fellow Harriken.

  Every man bore a wakizashi at his side, ready to engage any who dared attack their organization by blade or bullet.

  His pulse thundered in his ears, and his stomach churned.

  It’d been three years since the last full Executive Meeting, and the man had no doubts about why they’d called this one. Few such meetings ended without punishment. The only question was whether that punishment would be fatal.

  Two enforcers at the end of the hallway bowed to him and opened the broad wooden double doors.

  Jiro stepped inside. A low table had been placed in the center of the large room, and a single floating orb provided the only illumination. The magic lighting was new. Perhaps Grandfather wanted to demonstrate his increasing power.

  The man bore no actual relation to Jiro, but as head of the Harriken, he’d earned their ultimate title of respect.

  Thirty men knelt in front of the table and Grandfather sat in a chair, both literally and figuratively above them all. Unlike the other men in the room, he wore a purple kimono instead of a suit.

  “How wonderful of you to join us finally, Ikeda,” Grandfather said in accented English.

  Jiro bowed deeply and then knelt at an empty spot at the table. The slight of Grandfather greeting him in English didn’t go unnoticed.

  Failure harmed the Harriken, and anything that harmed the Harriken would be destroyed.

  “Good, we are all finally here,” Grandfather said, shifting into Japanese. “I apologize for forcing you to travel so far on such short notice.” His cool gaze locked on Jiro. “Events in America have forced this gathering, and I thought it important that everyone be present as we explore the recent failures that have harmed our organization and our future.”

  Everyone turned to stare at Jiro, who steeled his features. Failure was part of life. The important thing was to learn from it.

  Though he might not survive to do that.

  “Explain yourself, Ikeda,” Grandfather said, his voice still as calm as a spring breeze. “Explain why so many of our men lie dead in Los Angeles and one of our buildings was a burned cinder. You are responsible for American operations, so the failure of the men in Los Angeles is your failure. You’ve seriously crippled our expansion plans.”

  Jiro bowed his head. “What I set in motion should have increased the strength of the Harriken, even if there were some...operational failures.”

  “Strength? Strength comes from killing your enemies, not from dying.” Grandfather tilted his head, resting his elbow on an armrest and his head in the palm of his hand. He looked more like a bored teenager than the head of a vicious international criminal group.

  “The men in Los Angeles... That is, we came into possession of something unusual; special. Oriceran. A woman, a Drow princess.”

  Even if he hadn’t been running the operation directly, his responsibility for it dictated that he must speak as if he had been directly involved. Anything less would lessen the respect of the men in the room for him.

  Grandfather’s lip curled in a sneer. “Foreigners are disgusting enough. These alien creatures are even more so. What do I care for Oricerans, royalty or otherwise?”

  Jiro saw his chance. Tradition would always fall before greed. “This Drow princess possessed the ability to grant a wish. It is powerful magic.”

  “Interesting. And how did you contain such a creature if she was so powerful?”

  “We acquired rare and special rope that drained her
power through black magic. For us to gain the wish, she had to give it up willingly.” Jiro gave a light shrug. “She proved reluctant, so we tried to force it out of her through torture.”

  Grandfather drummed his fingers along the side of his chair. “But you failed.”

  “There were...complications. She proved surprisingly resilient.”

  “Elaborate on these complications. If you had this woman restrained, that implies there were additional issues?”

  Jiro took a deep breath. “There were no survivors from the attack on the location where we kept the Drow princess, but there was a single survivor from the first attack. He gave us information, and I had a few other local Harriken subjected to...aggressive questioning to confirm what had happened. I also discreetly inquired around the area.”

  Every man in that room understood that Jiro had ordered those Harriken tortured, just as he understood he was on the verge of torture or death for his failures as the leader of the American branch.

  Grandfather continued to look more bored than angry. “And what did your questioning reveal?”

  “The Los Angeles branch under Takahashi involved outside forces; a bounty hunter named James Brownstone.”

  The other man quirked a brow. “You expect me to believe a single bounty hunter killed that many of our men?”

  “There...was a woman with him, I believe.”

  Grandfather jumped from his seat, his face red with rage. He stabbed a finger at Jiro. “A man and a woman would not have been strong enough to butcher our men!”

  Jiro looked down, swallowing and awaiting the execution order. A dozen guards lined the room, cloaked in the shadows in their dark suits. A word from Grandfather would end his life in seconds.

  “This Brownstone,” Jiro continued when the word didn’t come. “He’s not normal. He’s some sort of ogre or evil spirit. He apparently has a reputation for unusual strength. They call him ‘the Granite Ghost.’”

  Grandfather smoothed his features and gave Jiro a cold smile, all trace of the rage gone. He sat back down before he spoke. “Interesting. Maybe he is another sort of Oriceran, or has availed himself of the magic that has returned. Why would such a creature involve himself in our dealings? Was he an ally of this Oriceran woman you tortured?”