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

  “Excuse me, sir,” the security guard said. “You’ll need to wait in line.”

  James ignored him. Annoyance shot through the bounty hunter. He’d thought he’d figured everything out, but King Pyro obviously wasn’t there. Somehow the other man had outsmarted him after all.

  “Damn it,” the bounty hunter muttered. He needed to get back on the road and figure out where King Pyro was really going.

  The security guard cleared his throat. “Sir, do you even have busi—”

  The front door exploded in a shower of glass and flame.

  Screams filled the lobby, and the customers fled to either side of the bank. The security guard ducked behind a desk, and James pivoted behind one of four cement pillars rising to the ceiling.

  “Guess you’re not smarter than me after all,” James muttered. “It ends this time, asshole.”

  He reached under his shirt and yanked the metal square off the back of the amulet. The cool touch of the metal and crystals against his skin was replaced by an inferno of discomfort, and tendrils of pain shot from the point of contact through the rest of his body until every part of him was in agony.

  James gritted his teeth as the necklace sank into his skin.

  In the back of his mind, a low and hollow voice whispered in a strange language he couldn’t begin to understand. He hadn’t heard anything like it...yet.

  Guess you can’t tell me to kill everyone I love if I can’t even fucking understand you, Mr. Cursed Amulet.

  Several long seconds passed before the pain began to ebb. James took several deep breaths, his limbs feeling slightly heavier. The whispers continued in the back of his mind, along with the faintest of hums. The Granite Ghost had awoken.

  Cloaked in flame, King Pyro strolled into the lobby, sneering at the cowering people against the walls. “Tell me where the vault is in the next thirty seconds or you’ll all burn.”

  The security guard popped up and squeezed off a round. The robber jerked from the hit, but didn’t fall. He turned, narrowing his eyes on the guard.

  “You would kill your king?” Pyro growled. “You’re nothing to me, and now you die.”

  Five more shots followed. The king didn’t go down, but James could see several bullet wounds through the flames surrounding his body.

  So you’re not bulletproof, asshole. Guess what, right now I am.

  “Run!” James shouted to the guard. “You can’t beat him.”

  King Pyro raised both hands and shot a column of flame from them that consumed the guard. His agonized screams filled the air for several seconds as the flames charred him. The bullet wounds closed on his killer.

  “What the fuck?” James exclaimed, stepping away from the pillar.

  “Brownstone,” King Pyro shouted, and pointed at him. He cackled. “This is fucking perfect. This is fucking DESTINY!”

  “Why aren’t you in a hospital somewhere with a broken jaw?”

  He pointed to the charred black ruin that used to be a security guard. “I have to thank you. You pushed me to my limits, and now I truly am a god. I can take the life from others to make me stronger.”

  James groaned and shook his head. “Last guy who said that to me ended up dead.”

  King Pyro’s face contorted in rage. “You’re fucking dead, Brownstone.” The flames surrounding his body flared into a white-blue flame. “I will melt you where you stand.” Two fireballs burst from his hands.

  The bounty hunter rolled to the side and opened up with the .45, but the bullets melted before reaching the other man’s body.

  “Okay, that’s a problem,” James muttered. “Now he is bulletproof.”

  King Pyro laughed. “I am beyond pathetic bitches like you, Brownstone. I am a GOD!”

  The bounty hunter sent a throwing knife sailing toward his enemy. He hoped it’d have enough metal to get through, but the flames consumed the knife just as eagerly as they had the bullets.

  James shoved his hands out, grabbing two monitors with his now-strengthened telekinesis and tossing them at the other man. Pyro batted them out of the air, and the smell of burnt plastic filled the bank.

  “Run, you idiots,” the bounty hunter yelled to the cowering crowd. “Get the fuck out of here while I’ve got him distracted.” He punctuated the sentence by emptying his magazine into Pyro, to no better effect than the first time.

  King Pyro stalked forward, ignoring the scurrying people. He raised a hand, and an orb of white-hot flame grew in his palm. “If you get on your knees and beg your king to forgive you, I’ll kill you quickly,” he snarled. “Otherwise I’ll make you suffer until you beg me to die, bitch.”

  He tossed the ball toward James, and the bounty hunter leapt out of the way. The desk behind him exploded, shooting out burning wood fragments and red-hot metal.

  James holstered his empty .45. With the crowd now gone, he could go to Plan B. He yanked out a frag grenade and pulled the pin. “Suck on this, asshole.”

  King Pyro grunted as the force of the explosion knocked him back. The bounty hunter followed up by yanking another gun out and tossing lead toward the center of the flaming mass, but the bullets couldn’t penetrate the flame shield.

  The other man pushed himself off the ground. He had no wounds on his face; the shrapnel from the grenade hadn’t even managed to scratch him.

  “What level do you think I am now, you little bitch?” King Pyro shouted. “Five? Six? Maybe I’ll be the first level-seven. For I am the king, and I rule over all you fuckers!”

  “This is America, asshole. We don’t do kings.” As James sprinted for the column, a bolt of flame struck him in the shoulder and another on the thigh. The smell of his burning flesh greeted his nose and he gritted his teeth, pain spiking through his body.

  “Fuck,” he muttered. He’d hoped that the necklace would block the attack, but the agony in his shoulder suggested it’d only stopped the worst of it.

  The whispers grew louder in his head, more frantic, but were still unintelligible. He needed to get close to King Pyro where his strength would be an advantage. He yanked out a knife and readied it.

  “Do you smell it, Brownstone?” Pyro chuckled. “I smell your fear.”

  James spun and charged at Pyro, who threw two quick fireballs that blasted right through his coat and burned his chest. He slammed his knife into Pyro’s shoulder. The metal melted seconds later, but the force of the blow sent the other man sailing back howling in pain.

  The bounty hunter tossed his burning duster to the ground and followed up with his two remaining grenades. They exploded in rapid succession, stunning King Pyro for a second but not killing him.

  James glanced down at his chest and narrowed his eyes. Unlike his still painful shoulder and leg, his chest was only reddened and there was very little pain. Either the king’s attacks were growing weaker, or his skin was growing stronger.

  As if answering him, the whisper in his head became more insistent.

  “Let’s finish this, you piece of shit,” James shouted, yanking off his burned tactical harness and dropping it to the ground. The guns and knives wouldn’t do shit for him, so there was no point in risking one of them blowing up or melting right next to him.

  King Pyro put his hands close together and a fireball grew in front of him.

  “Now, Brownstone, you die.”

  26

  James threw himself to the side. The massive fireball roared past him, its intense heat exacerbating the existing burns on his exposed body.

  He had never thought of what it’d be like to be a stripper, but at this point only a few scraps of shirt remained, and his pants and boots had huge holes. Hell, even his underwear wasn’t in the best shape.

  In another situation the bounty hunter might have laughed about all that, but right now rage, pain, and deep breaths kept his mind focused on defeating his enemy.

  His entire body ached, and he had wounds and burns all over. The amulet necklace had saved his life and protected him from the worst of his enemy�
�s attacks, but it hadn’t completely saved him from harm.

  It didn’t fucking matter. There was no way he was letting King Pyro get away again while he was still breathing.

  No one I love will ever again get hurt, if I have anything to say about it. That fucker is going down.

  James charged and slammed his fist at full strength into King Pyro’s chest. The other man flew backward, smashing through a front window and crashing into the street. The bounty hunter stepped through the shattered glass, glaring at the fallen criminal with murder is his eyes.

  “You’re done, you sonofabitch,” he rumbled in his deep voice.

  There were dozens of cops, crouched behind their vehicles with rifles, shotguns, and pistols at the ready. Armed drones circled overhead, and at least twelve AET members in full armor were in position behind collapsible tactical shields.

  King Pyro laughed as he hopped to his feet with blood running down his face. “A god can’t be killed by a man, bitches!” A fireball blasted toward a nearby police cruiser, but the cops behind it fled just in time. The car exploded, raining down parts. Other officers rushed backward, even the AET members.

  The bank robber followed by throwing fireball after fireball into the sky. Drones exploded and melted at their touch.

  James blinked, watching the fireworks display in disbelief.

  What the fuck?

  For whatever reason, King Pyro’s power kept growing. Maybe the man had been right, and his near death at James’ hands had unlocked greater potential. Or perhaps the fear of death had let him dig deep.

  He knew he had to end this shit soon.

  The bounty hunter didn’t care about the reason, only that it was happening. If this kept up, King Pyro would become unstoppable. James wasn’t even sure how long his necklace protection would hold out.

  “Everything burns in the end, Brownstone,” King Pyro shouted. “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.”

  James tilted his neck back and forth and cracked his knuckles. “They aren’t gonna stop me this time, Adams. I told you not to threaten my family, and now you’re gonna pay for that.”

  “Your family, Brownstone? Don’t you get it? After I’m done with you, they’re going to die nice and slow. I’m going to roast them alive, enjoying their screams.” Pyro snorted. “I heard about what happened to your dog. That’s going to be fucking merciful compared to what I’m going to do. I hope at least a few of them are bitches. Then I can have even more fun.”

  Dark whispers filled his head again. James didn’t have to know the language to understand that the amulet necklace was telling him to finish King Pyro.

  The bounty hunter charged, but King Pyro didn’t even bother throwing any fireballs. Instead the man sidestepped and grabbed James’ wrist. The flames licked at the bounty hunter’s skin, burning despite the amulet’s protection. Pyro yanked him close, trying to surround him with the flames around his body.

  “Burn, bitch, burn!”

  “I told you,” James gritted his teeth as the pain in his wrist intensified and finished with a roar, “no one threatens my fucking family!”

  The bounty hunter pivoted and slammed his free fist directly into King Pyro’s throat, and the man collapsed, gagging. A ferocious kick sent the criminal spiraling into a nearby minivan.

  “You keep ending up in cars, Adams,” James remarked.

  “Fuck...you,” the other man managed to grind out.

  The bounty hunter grabbed the still-burning man by his throat, ignoring the pain, and slammed him headfirst into the pavement three times. Blood splattered everywhere, and the flames died out.

  “Brownstone,” King Pyro, his face mangled, coughed up blood. He managed a weak chuckle. “Your eyes…”

  “What about my eyes, you sonofabitch?”

  “They aren’t...human. It’s okay...if a god gets beaten by a monster.” He gagged on his own blood. “You’re not human, Brownstone. Fucking...Oriceran…piece of shit.”

  The amulet’s whispers grew louder.

  James shook his head. “You’re not a god, Adams. You’re just a fucking criminal who got lucky, but now your luck has run out.”

  He slammed his fist into the man’s head, caving in his skull, and he completed the job with another blow. He grunted as he straightened up and tried to wipe his bloodied hand off on what little remained of his pants.

  It was over. King Pyro would never threaten anyone James cared about again.

  “The king is dead,” he muttered. “Long live the king.”

  James’ body throbbed all over, and exhaustion had long since seeped into his muscles and bones. With his adrenaline fading, he even managed to discover some new aches and pain. The whispers from the necklace had gone all but silent. He stepped away from the dead flame master, picked up his tactical harness, and limped toward his truck.

  Most of the nearby cops aimed their guns at him, including the AET members.

  “Drop the weapons, get on your knees, and put your hands behind your head,” shouted an AET member, his voice muffled behind his red-eyed goggled mask. He raised his rifle, ready to shoot.

  The whispers in James’ head returned, insistent in tone. He wondered if the damn cursed artifact was trying to get him to fight the cops.

  Is that your plan? Berserker rage-shit? Fuck you. I borrowed your power, but I’m still James Brownstone. I call the shots for my body.

  “Stay back,” shouted someone else. “Brownstone’s legit.” The voice sounded familiar, but with his exhaustion and injuries James couldn’t quite place it. “Leave him alone. He’s a licensed class-six bounty hunter. There’s a valid bounty out on Jordan Adams, and that was a righteous kill. It was an official dead-or-alive hunt.”

  The cops on either side of James kept their weapons trained on him, but those in front parted, providing him a clear path to his truck. He continued shuffling toward it, glancing over at an AET member hauling a rocket launcher out of the back of their armored van.

  Could never be too careful, he guessed.

  James managed a chuckle. He’d never been shot with a rocket launcher. He wasn’t sure if even the necklace could protect him from something like that. He grimaced as a gust of wind blew dust into some of his exposed burns.

  He glanced up. More armed drones had arrived, along with helicopters, both news and police.

  A few more steps and he’d be at his truck. He looked behind him. A line of cops slowly closed on him, weapons in hand. The AET members advanced behind several of their men with tactical shields. Most of the AET members carried stun rifles or assault rifles, and the rocket-launcher cop had been joined by a man with a heavy mini-gun—yet another weapon he’d never had the displeasure of personally experiencing.

  Glad to see I’m worth the heavy ordnance. He could just see it. Here lies James Brownstone. Cause of death: being turned into Swiss cheese. More about the latest barbeque winner at five.

  If James hadn’t been beat to hell and back he might have been able to scatter the men without too much trouble, but taking them on when he was wounded didn’t seem like a bright idea. He didn’t like the idea of hurting cops, even if they took a shot or two at him.

  Ignoring the cops, the bounty hunter pulled open the door of his F-350 and climbed inside. No rockets or bullets tore into his beloved vehicle.

  Please don’t shoot up my truck. It’d be hell to find this model still in good shape.

  He took several deep breaths, then pulled out the energy and healing potions from the go-case in the back seat.

  Thanks, Zoe.

  James downed the energy potion, and after about ten seconds his exhaustion vanished.

  He grunted, his mind now even more aware of his extensive wounds. “Fuck I hurt!”

  After quickly pulling the stopper on the healing potion, he downed the contents. It was surprisingly sweet, unlike the bitter energy potion.

  The bounty hunter waited in his seat, looking down at his burned legs as the seconds ticked away. His skin began to repair itsel
f before his eyes and the pain lessened, becoming more bearable. His wounds and burns shrank. After about thirty seconds not a single burn or wound remained on his body, and all his pain was gone.

  “Yeah, that sucked,” James muttered, reaching into the back.

  He fished out another metal square from the go case and pulled the paper off the adhesive backing. With a deep breath, he yanked the amulet out of his skin.

  Pain shot through his body, and the whispers became yells in his mind. Abrupt silence followed.

  He held the amulet in his hand and slapped the metal square onto the back before letting it settle back onto his chest. The small army of cops outside might still decide he needed to join King Pyro in the afterlife, and now that he wasn’t wounded, he might be able to escape with the necklace’s help.

  James reached into the backseat to pull out the t-shirt, pants, underwear, and shoes he’d brought. After the burns he’d suffered in his first fight with King Pyro, he’d half-expected to end up in burning scraps of fabric. He peeled off the remains of what had once been his clothing and footwear to slide on his new duds.

  “What a fucking day. Too bad I didn’t bring my Mexico coat.” He snickered. “See, Shay, if I’d kept it, it would have gotten burned.”

  James thought about it for a moment.

  That fucking coat had really been comfortable. He was going to buy a new one. Shay would just have to deal. He was a bounty hunter, not a male model.

  He grinned at the idea.

  The bounty hunter finally looked up. There were fifteen cops in front of his truck, but they didn’t have their weapons out. They all stood with their backs to the truck, except for one familiar face: Sergeant Mack.

  James opened the door and stepped out of the vehicle.

  “It’s okay, guys,” Mack assured them.

  The cops surrounding his truck started walking away, except for Mack. The sergeant wiped some sweat off his brow.

  “You know, when I started this job,” the cop began, “the worst thing we had to worry about was a terrorist with an automatic weapon or a bomb.” He motioned toward the bank. “Now that crap almost seems quaint, like the shit you’d expect from school kids.”