When Angels Cry: An Urban Fantasy Action Adventure (The Unbelievable Mr. Brownstone Book 6)

by Michael Anderle

  The other detective sighed. “Fucking Oriceran. Someone should figure out how to slam the gates closed and get rid of magic again.” His attention flicked to a line near the top of the screen: PROJECTED BOUNTY: LEVEL ONE. “We need serious help, and that’s going to be at least level three or higher.”

  Detective West shrugged. “Look, we’ve got the red glowing eyes and the deaths, along with the shapeshifting, so we’ve got a murderer with at least some magical capability. As long as we enter all that shit, we’ll get at least a level three easily.”

  “Yeah, I guess you got a point.”

  Detective Lafayette spent a few moments selecting options and entering information before speaking again. “The second witness said her dad unloaded into the killer. Given the recovered gun and the shell casings, we’ve got reason to think she wasn’t wrong or exaggerating, which means our boy may be resistant to small-arms fire. That’s got be worth something.”

  The other man shook his head. “That still might not be enough to get him to level four. Remember that bastard last year? They said even though you could shoot the fucker at point-blank range and he wouldn’t die, he was still only level three because he wasn’t that strong or fast or anything.”

  “What about that shadow shit?” Detective Lafayette furrowed his brow. “So we’ve got… Where’s the box? Ah, there it is. Unidentified Sensory Manipulation, One or More Senses.” He selected that option and then “Physical Resistance: Small Arms Fire.”

  PROJECTED BOUNTY: LEVEL FOUR.

  The two cops nodded to each other, satisfied smiles on their faces. Arresting the man would be best, but they had the citizens of Las Vegas to protect. A tough bounty-hunter or two might be able to follow up on different leads denied the police.

  Detective Lafayette clicked around some of the other options. “Anything you can think of so we can scare up a level five?”

  Detective West shrugged. “I don’t think so. He’s got no mass kill skills, and we have no idea if he can…” He leaned over to look at the screen, “summon or control non-terrestrial entities or previously non-animate constructs.”

  “What the fuck does that mean?”

  “If the asshole can summon spirits or ghosts or create zombies, that sort of thing. It’s hard to get to level five without a guy being able to blow up half a city by himself or make an army, or fuck harder with the laws of physics than your average Oriceran.”

  Detective Lafayette finished clicking a few more options and shook his head. “Level four sounds good, but we still don’t have a lot of information. What if they can’t find him?”

  “Doesn’t matter.” Detective West narrowed his eyes at the lines listing the victims. “Think about our guy’s actions so far. Just because he’s got some fancy powers doesn’t change the fact that he’s like a lot of regular serial killers.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He’s power-tripping. Once he smells hunters coming, he’ll go to them to make a point. Send the bounty request, and I bet you the bastard will all but run to the first bounty hunter.”

  Sample XJ422 stared down at the phone he’d taken from one of the victims. He’d been waiting for the police to trace the phone and come for him. Killing a few police to demonstrate his power would help them understand his threat, but he’d waited, and no one had come.

  They don’t know. And if they don’t, I should call them.

  It was time to test his true power. Time to show the police they were nothing before him.

  He lifted the phone, then lowered it. No. It wasn’t time, not yet. He needed to generate more fear; to make more angels cry first. The suffering on their faces buoyed his heart and filled the hungry void in his soul better than any simple kill.

  I need a new name—one that inspires terror.

  Sample XJ422 frowned as he tried to recall his original name. It’d long since vanished, smothered by memories of darkness and pain.

  The thought didn’t bother him much. Few normal names spread terror.

  Maybe the police have given me a name. They spread fear even when they don’t want to.

  He raised the phone again and brought up the browser. A moment later he was at the Las Vegas Metropolitan Police Department official webpage. Flashing text on the side caught his attention.

  NEW OFFICIAL LEVEL-FOUR BOUNTY ISSUED.

  He tilted his head and tapped on the link.

  A NEW LEVEL FOUR BOUNTY HAS BEEN ISSUED BY THE LAS VEGAS METROPOLITAN POLICE DEPARTMENT. IT HAS BEEN FUNDED BY THE CITY OF LAS VEGAS, CLARK COUNTY, AND A GENEROUS DONATION FROM THE NEVADA RESORT ASSOCIATION.

  Officially released information on “RED EYES Killer” as follows:

  Unidentified killer, believed to be male, responsible for four homicides in the city of Las Vegas. Victims include three adult males and one adult female. Victim profiling suggests killer targets parents with young children. Killer isn’t targeting children at this time but has previously demonstrated an inclination toward such potential murder targets.

  Abilities include unidentified sensory manipulation manifesting as the ability to create localized darkness, resistance to small arms fire, and physical manipulation of own body to make weapons, included bone blades. Killer has previously demonstrated the ability to decapitate an adult male with such weapons.

  A full physical description is not available at this time, but all witnesses report deepening shadows in the area and glowing red eyes.

  Please be advised that this is classified as a LEVEL FOUR bounty at this time. Appropriate licensing is required for recovery of the bounty.

  This is a LIVE recovery bounty. Termination of the bounty will result in forfeiture of fifty percent of the pre-tax value of the bounty.

  All licensed bounty hunters attempting to capture the bounty should still exercise extreme caution and assume the bounty possesses additional weapons or abilities not specified in this bounty notice. Please note that these additional abilities may result in a more difficult bounty hunting experience than suggested by the current bounty level.

  The city of Las Vegas and the Las Vegas Metropolitan Police Department are not responsible for any death, injury, or loss of property that occurs as a result of pursuing the Red-Eyes Killer.

  Please be advised that any incidental damage or injury of third-parties will be the legal responsibility of the bounty hunter and not the city of Las Vegas or the Las Vegas Metropolitan Police Department.

  Please note that all bounties are subject to the Nevada State Bounty Hunting Tax and Federal income taxes. Appropriate reporting forms will be sent to the IRS and Nevada Department of Taxation following award of the bounty.

  Please click here for additional information, including further legal disclaimers.

  “Level four? ‘Red-Eyes Killer?’ I think I prefer just ‘Red Eyes.’ They know fear now, but not enough.” He crushed the phone in his hand and tossed the splintered mass of plastic and glass to the ground. “They need to recognize my true power. Soon they will know terror that will be spoken of for generations.”

  Red Eyes let out a low hollow laugh. Soon every angel in heaven would cry.

  Doctor Simmons let out a long, pained sigh as he read the bounty report on the large projected screen at the front of the conference room. Four suited men turned to look at him.

  “The sample isn’t contained, Simmons,” observed a silver-haired man with a severe face. Doctor Anders. “Our…investors will be very displeased. This is an unmitigated disaster.”

  “Investors? You mean those damned gangsters? We should have never agreed to take their money.”

  Doctor Anders snorted. “You didn’t seem to care about their background until a few days ago. All you cared about was their money, and if we recover the sample, we can continue to care only about their money.”

  “We can…still salvage this. It doesn’t have to be a problem.”

  “How?”

  Doctor Simmons pointed toward the screen. “Look at the notice. It’s clear the police d
on’t know much. They have only the most generic description. They can’t trace it to us.”

  Doctor Anders slammed his hand on the table. “We were supposed to find the sample before the police. If the authorities get their hands on it they might be able to trace it back to our lab, especially if they get a wizard involved.” He looked at each man in turn. “I think we can all agree, even setting aside our investors, that we don’t want Oricerans realizing that we’ve been performing genetic engineering experiments involving mixing different types of Oriceran and pure human DNA. They’d destroy this lab if they realized what we could accomplish without using any magic as long as we have access to biological samples from magical beings.”

  “Just authorize the release of a team, and I’ll make sure they recover the sample before the police or a bounty hunter. Then we won’t have to worry about our investors or the Oricerans.”

  Doctor Anders nodded. “Very well. At this point, it doesn’t matter if we recover the sample alive. Just make sure its corpse is back in this lab before anyone else finds it.” He stood and adjusted his tie. “I’ll contact our investors and make it clear that we’re handling this matter.”

  Another member of management cleared his throat. “But what happens if the police or a bounty hunter captures the sample?”

  “If that happens, you’d better hope your life insurance premiums are paid up.”

  9

  James walked down the street, his hands in his pockets, only a quarter of a mile between him and a few In-N-Out Double-Doubles animal-style. His rumbling stomach kept his mind focused on his mission and not worrying about Trey, Shay, or Alison. He wasn’t even sure why he was so hungry, given how much he had eaten at Jessie Rae’s earlier in the day.

  Two men across the street ducked into a liquor store. One reached into his jacket and pulled out something. A hint of silver gleamed under the harsh light of a street lamp; a gun, perhaps, or maybe just an elaborate lighter. With the man’s back turned James couldn’t be sure.

  He grunted.

  Not my problem. I’m not a cop, I’m a bounty hunter. I should just keep walking. Keep my life simple. I doubt two random street punks have a bounty on them.

  James put one foot in front of the other and forced his gaze away from the liquor store. The Double-Doubles called to him, and taking down some random hoods in a liquor store would not only not be worth his time, but it’d also mean he’d be hungry for that much longer.

  He made it another few feet before he stopped and rolled his eyes. An image of Alison flashed in his mind.

  If he walked past and someone got hurt, he could only imagine what Alison would say. She would stare up at him with accusation on her face and openly wonder why her dad was willing to scare some random boys at her school, but not stop criminals threatening others with guns.

  “Son of a bitch,” James mumbled. He turned toward the liquor store. “I’ve got to hit the can anyway.”

  Andy wiped his nose on his sleeve and looked around. A couple inspected wine bottles in the back, and another man was wandering the beer aisle rubbing his chin like some sort of poor man’s beer sommelier.

  “Yo, Jake,” he whispered. “I don’t know, man. There are too many people here. This won’t be clean. You said it’d be clean.”

  “Fuck that noise,” the other hood whispered back. “Unless they got fucking machine guns hidden in their pockets, I give exactly zero fucks. We just need to hurry up and do this thing, bro.”

  The door chimed behind them, but they kept their attention on one another. One more customer wouldn’t make a difference at that point.

  “Maybe if we wait a few minutes some of these other people will leave,” Andy suggested. He turned his head just in time to see the bathroom door close. “Fuck, did you see who came in?”

  Jake shook his head. “No. Doesn’t matter anyway.” He snickered. “Unless it’s some fucking cop.”

  “Fuck. Let’s just do this shit.”

  James had just finished his business when the alarm rang.

  He zipped up with a sigh. “At least they let me finish pissing first.” He cracked his knuckles and opened the bathroom door. It was time to educate a couple of young men about situational awareness.

  The two glaring hoods stood in front of the cashier waving their .22 resolvers around. A large glass barrier had descended from the ceiling, separating the cashier from the robbers.

  “You better open that shit back up,” one of the hoods shouted. He pointed his gun at the couple with fear and confusion on their faces holding wine bottles. “If you don’t open up, I’ll shoot one of these assholes. You willing to have that on your conscience, man?”

  The other hood pointed his gun at a man cowering on his knees in the beer aisle. “And we’ll cap this dude, too.”

  The cashier shook his head. “The police are already on their way. Just drop your guns and give up and it won’t be a big deal. We both know that pieces of shit like you will be back on the street in months anyway. This doesn’t have to be a big thing.”

  “You think I’m playing, bro?” the first hood yelled. He fired at the cashier. Thin cracks spiderwebbed out from the point of impact, but the glass didn’t break.

  The woman screamed, and her husband covered her with his body. Their dropped wine bottles shattered on the floor, splattering wine all over their clothes.

  The man in beer aisle covered his head with his hands and sobbed quietly.

  The hood punched the glass a few times. “Fuck this noise!” He ran to the front door and tried to open it, only to find it locked. You think I’m playing, bro? Seriously?” He spun on his heel and marched toward the couple.

  The man lifted his fists, but the hood knocked him to the floor with a quick blow from the butt of his pistol. He pointed the gun right at the woman’s head. She whimpered, and her eyes widened.

  “I’m gonna count to ten, and if you don’t open that glass or let us out, this bitch is dead.” A muffled siren sounded in the distance. “Oh, sure, if it’s not my ass robbing the local liquor store, the cops can’t be found.” He waved the gun around. “Why the fuck is this so hard tonight?”

  James was done with this bullshit. The only thing more annoying than a criminal was an incompetent and whiny one. He stomped toward the man holding the gun on the woman.

  The hood spun toward him. “You think you’re gonna be a hero, you ugly son of a bi—”

  The bounty hunter grabbed the man’s wrist and yanked his arm upward. The gun discharged into the ceiling, showering both men with plaster and wood.

  James pulled the hood forward and introduced his hard forehead to the other man’s face, and blood spurted from the man’s broken nose as he collapsed to the ground groaning. The bounty hunter tossed the gun to the ground and narrowed his eyes at the man’s partner.

  “Jake!” the other hood shouted, then to Brownstone, “You’ll pay for that.”

  “Last chance to give up, asshole,” James rumbled. “Keep going, and I’m gonna get seriously pissed. You interrupted my dinner.”

  A police car screeched to the stop in the parking lot.

  The two officers waited, their guns pointed at the front window as they knelt behind their car. They jerked down as bullets shattered the glass.

  Officer Silvers kept his back against the car and prepared to return fire. “Fuck. What the hell is going on in there?”

  His partner gritted his teeth. “We need to move now. We can’t wait for backup.”

  Two thuds followed, and the cops risked a peek, their guns ready. Two bodies lay on the ground, obviously thrown through the shattered window.

  Officer Silvers blinked. “What the fuck?”

  A moment later, a dark form climbed through the window. The cops pointed their weapons.

  “Las Vegas PD!” the cops shouted in unison.

  “Holy shit!” Officer Silvers appended a moment later. “That’s James Brownstone!”

  The cops’ attention dropped to the bodies on the g
round. Soft groans came from both men. Whoever they were, they were still alive, and the presence of the bounty hunter suggested they weren’t the innocent victims in the situation.

  The officers exchanged looks but kept their guns raised. James Brownstone was as famous for bringing on trouble as he was solving it, and this wasn’t LA.

  Brownstone finished his exit and brushed some glass off his jacket and pants. He stomped over to the two groaning men and yanked them up by the scruffs of their necks.

  “Probably gonna try and sue me or some shit,” the bounty hunter muttered. He dragged them over to the cops and tossed them on the ground. “Armed robbers. Got plenty of witnesses inside and surveillance video of them pistol-whipping a guy, shooting at someone, and generally being assholes.”

  The cops blinked and nodded.

  Brownstone shrugged. “I’ve got shit to do.”

  Officer Silvers cleared his throat. “We’re going to need an official statement, Mr. Brownstone.”

  “I just gave you one.” He grunted and walked away. “I don’t want to do paperwork. It messes up my feng shui or some shit like that. Plus, I’m hungry as fuck.” He continued walking.

  The second cop, Officer Riviera, turned to his partner. “What should we do? Stop him?”

  “Do you want to try and stop James Brownstone?” Officer Silvers pointed to the downed criminals. “A guy who just did that? Let alone half the other stuff he’s done? We’d need a whole AET team to stop James Brownstone.”

  “But what about procedure? And where the hell is he going?”

  Officer Silvers spotted a familiar red, white, and yellow sign. “Don’t worry. Let’s get these guys in the cruiser and talk to the witnesses first. I think I know exactly where he’s going.”

  They cuffed the suspects and shoved them in the back of their cruiser. Officer Silvers then headed into the now-open liquor store, shaking his head as he passed the destroyed window.