Monster Hunter Guardian (ARC)

by Larry Correia

  Lamia venom burns.

  I stabbed right past my head and stuck that lamia in the face. Her teeth released and I fell. Rolling forward, I barely managed to dodge more claws, winding up on my back with a lot of hissing vampire bitches right over me.

  “Julie, catch!”

  Hansel?

  Now that was a surprise. I’d not expected him to come back. I looked up just in time to see him toss a pistol my way.

  Now judging by how inaccurate the lawyer’s aim had been against the security golems, it was probably good that he’d thrown it to me, rather than tried to help by shooting, because I probably would’ve gotten plugged. Problem was, he wasn’t that accurate at throwing either, so the gun bounced off another lamia’s head and landed in the dirt a few feet away. Somehow Hansel had found the Sig I’d lost upstairs.

  Before I could reach for it, though, I discovered that lamias aren’t just biters, they’re also constrictors. All of a sudden a lamia wrapped her lower body around my legs. The crushing pressure was incredible. Another grabbed my sword arm. It compressed the bones together so hard it felt like they were going to be ground into powder. Then there was another terrible flash of awful chemical fire as a lamia bit into my hip.

  Head swimming from the poison, I got buried in snake vampires…but not before I got my left hand on the pistol.

  I jammed the muzzle against the temple of the one on my legs. Pop! Then against the forehead of the bitch sucking on my hip. Pop! Then the one on my right arm. Pop pop! She got two because I didn’t have a very good angle on her brain.

  The pressure released and the lamias flopped around, twitching. I stumbled up, gun in one hand, sword in the other, bleeding, poisoned, and with most of my clothes torn off, and shouted, “Come on!” Then I was shooting and chopping my way toward the stairs.

  The poison was really messing with my head. The world was swimming. I don’t even remember how I got to the stairs, but it must’ve been by spilling lots of lamia blood and leaving a trail of severed hands and pissed-off hissing snake ladies.

  During all that, Hansel had been trying to figure out how to fire one of the submachine guns dropped by the security golems.

  Even terrified, the lawyer was still well spoken. “Forgive my late arrival. I was trying to reach you, but I couldn’t keep up with your little helper.”

  The lamias were slithering up the stairs behind me. “Here, trade you.” I pushed the sword to him and took the little B&T subgun away. “Run!” Unlike Hansel, I knew how to deactivate a thumb safety, so I extended it in one hand and opened fire, working the muzzle back and forth as bullets tore into the tightly packed monsters in the narrow stairwell. When it was empty, I dropped the gun and ran after him.

  “Let’s go, Mr. Trash Bags!”

  The now blood-soaked fur jumped off a lamia’s partially eaten head and bounded up the stairs.

  I don’t know how long we ran for. The underground area was a whole lot bigger than I first thought, and with the poison pumping through my veins, I was really dizzy. My vision was blurry, and it wasn’t just because I’d lost my glasses. I had a sneaky feeling that if it wasn’t for the Guardian’s mark, I’d either be paralyzed or unconscious by now.

  I rounded a corner, and Hansel was there, leaning against the wall and breathing really hard. He probably didn’t get a lot of cardio in his line of work. There weren’t any lamias directly behind us, so I stopped to catch my breath.

  I gave Hansel an incredulous look. He’d told me from the beginning he wasn’t doing this for me. He was doing this for Management, to whom he owed loyalty or at least some obedience as a client. “Why’d you come back?”

  “Let’s say I didn’t feel right about leaving you to your fate. I’ve had many clients, and helped many people for other clients, but your quest is probably the only truly righteous one I’ve ever had. There is no higher calling than helping a mother protect her child.” He paused to cough. “It is a far better thing than I’ve ever done.”

  “Well…huh…thank you!” That was really nice of him, but I’d get sentimental later. I ejected the magazine from the Grayguns Sig. It was too dim to see the witness holes in the dark, but from the weight remaining, I only had a few rounds left. “You got any more magazines for this thing?”

  I’d lost his coat, but Hansel fished around in his trouser pocket and handed me over one more mag. “That’s all I have left. There is a way out. I came through it, from a small building across the plaza. It’s quite possible that on the way back we’ll find something else blocking our way.” He looked down at the sword in his hand. “I’m afraid I don’t really know what to do with this.”

  “Join the club,” I said as I loaded the fresh mag and did a chamber check. “Brother Death has got to know I’ve escaped. He’ll be down here looking for us too.”

  “I’m not so sure. A few minutes ago Hunters from the Portuguese government raided the church above. He’s more than likely fled.”

  So Albert had gotten ahold of Grant after all. “Great. Then let’s get out of here before their Feds mistake us for cultists and shoot us. You first.”

  It wasn’t just because I was injured and poisoned that I wanted Hansel on point. He felt genuine, but I’d already been tricked by Brother Death’s mind-controlling people before, and I didn’t intend to fall for it again. Mr. Trash Bags obediently bounced alongside my bare feet. It’s strange to say, but covered in filthy blood-matted fur, he was actually more frightening than his usual look of tar-colored blob with extra eyeballs and teeth.

  I didn’t want to say anything in front of Hansel—just in case he was possessed and this was all another scam—but I needed to see if Mr. Trash Bags had the artifact. So I picked him up. “Good job, Mr. Trash Bags.”

  “Cuddle Bunny love Mr. Trash Bags?”

  I gave him a squeeze. It was like the furs were filled with a bag of jelly. He kind of smooshed, but in there was the hard rectangular lump of the artifact.

  “Yes. Cuddle Bunny loves her Mr. Trash Bags.”

  If a shoggoth could purr, he probably would have right then.

  Nothing else tried to kill us.

  It took us what seemed like forever to stumble blindly through the ruins.

  Chapter 20

  The exit was just a plain wooden door which was, thankfully, unlocked. I emerged from the tunnel and blinked because after hours down there, the streetlights were really bright. It took me a minute to realize that the door was on the backside of a gurgling stone fountain, set almost against a wall but not touching it. That’s the weird thing about Old Europe: you can have an unremarkable door on the street lead to a bake shop…or catacombs. Flip a coin.

  Then I noticed there were a lot of men with guns and flashlights nearby.

  We hadn’t been spotted yet, so I crouched next to the fountain and tried to take stock. The plaza the ruined convent was in had been sealed. Orange traffic barricades had been put up to block the streets around it. Thankfully we’d come out on the other side of the cordoned-off area. On this side of the barriers was a cacophony of sirens and arguing voices, as the Portuguese motorists weren’t having any of whatever they were being told had caused the closure of the plaza.

  Manning the barriers were what looked like World War I generals in polished brass helmets and elaborate uniforms, but inside the plaza, it was all men dressed in black fatigues and balaclavas, holding serious hardware and skulking around, looking at everything, particularly the old church.

  I was certain the ones in black were Agencia de Segurança Sobrenatural and, despite their incredibly unfortunate English acronym, they looked like they knew what they were doing.

  Hansel was still in the tunnel. I put my finger to my lips, warning him to be quiet.

  “Mr. Trash Bags pretend to be mammal,” my shoggoth said helpfully.

  Without even looking, I used my foot to shove Mr. Trash Bags back into the tunnel.

  Hansel took a turn poking his head out of the tunnel to see what was going on.
>
  “Who are the World War I Generals?” I asked, my voice low.

  “The Republican Guard. They’re basically police. They are the excuse to clear the plaza. If anyone heard the shots, I’m sure they’ll blame it on terrorism. It’s ASS we have to worry about.”

  I felt my face contort in a grimace. “I don’t think I’ll like a Portuguese prison any better than a German one.” I sure didn’t like feeling cornered.

  Most of the bystanders were looking toward the commotion in the plaza, not our way, which meant we might not be seen sneaking out. Well, less likely, since my dress was hanging in tatters, and I was covered in dirt and drying blood. I couldn’t just hide in the tunnels waiting for them to leave while Susan was getting further away with Ray. Even though getting caught here—especially with the artifact—wasn’t going to end well, we had to go for it.

  I made a gesture for Hansel to stay quiet, not that it was needed. The one who needed to be quiet was Mr. Trash Bags, but good luck with that. There weren’t that many people around, but if they turned around, they were going to see me in my bedraggled evening dress, barefoot, clutching a gun in one hand, with a bloody nightmare poodle at my feet.

  Luckily, nobody saw us sneak around the fountain. I let my breath out.

  Then Hansel whispered, “That gate to the left. Open it and go in.”

  There was an arched wooden gate, set in a seven-foot-tall pink-painted stone wall. When I’d scanned it hadn’t even registered. It had a massive lock on it, and in the middle of a large city, I assumed it would be locked.

  “I went through it earlier. Go.”

  So I went. I didn’t know if the gate led to a house or what, but it seemed like it would be easier to go through a house, even if I had to take hostages, than it would be to not be spotted on the street looking like this.

  I had, in fact, walked into a vegetable garden. A tiny one. There were things staked and things on stalks, and a bunch of hydrangeas colonizing a corner. This time of year most of the garden was dead. There was a path leading straight through to another wall and a gate.

  “Wait a moment. I’ll be right back.” Hansel wasn’t nearly as dirty or messed up as I was. There were a few mystery stains on his nice white shirt, but he still mostly looked respectable and not nearly as likely to be noticed by the law. He went out the opposite gate into the street.

  I got really impatient. Every minute I hid in this garden was that much further Susan was going to get away with Ray. But it wouldn’t do me any good to get arrested.

  I still hurt everywhere, but the effects of the poison seemed to be wearing off. I had no way to see, but I couldn’t feel any bullet holes in my back, so I could only assume there were new black dots back there. The nonlethal fang punctures in my hip were still bleeding though. Thanks a lot, stupid curse.

  Waiting there gave me time to think about what Susan had said. She was responsible for the vampire outbreak at my school. She’d manipulated me and meddled in my life, pulling my strings without me ever realizing it. Even though I had a happy life and loved my job, without getting back into monster hunting I never would’ve met my husband nor had my son. The knowledge that Susan had played some part in influencing my decisions made it all feel tainted.

  About ten minutes later a car horn honked on the other side of the gate away from the plaza.

  I stepped through trying to gather my dignity…

  And found myself in the middle of a tree-lined city street. Nearby was a little sidewalk café, with the early morning crowd having their morning espresso and croissant.

  I put my gun behind my back, trying to hide it in the folds of what was left of my dress look nonchalant. I expected a scream for the police at any minute, but luckily the gate was in shadows.

  You’d think honking a car horn would draw more attention from all the nearby cops, but there were a lot of honks since Portuguese seemed to believe making noise was an essential part of driving. They made New York drivers seem polite and reserved.

  The honking was coming from a white luxury sedan. I didn’t recognize the driver, but Hansel, looking like the canary that ate the cat, got out of the backseat and held the door open for me.

  I tried to look like this was my car, and it was perfectly normal for very wealthy people to run around Lisbon barefoot carrying a gun while wearing a bedraggled evening dress.

  I got in and Hansel slid in after me.

  “I called for a car and told it to wait before I went back in for you. I just came around another way, after giving one of the ASS agents a suitable bribe.” Hansel shoved something at me.

  It was a business card. It read Luisa Lopes. Investigador Profissional. Agencia de Segurança Sobrenatural and a number.

  “I suspect she knew who I was working for, and I do not mean Management. She said she wishes to talk and to help.”

  “You mean help arrest me?”

  “I do not think so.” We were already moving down the street. Hansel glanced through the back window. “If that were the case, they would be following us now. It appears to be clear.”

  “But I though all the EU supernatural agencies were linked and allied.”

  He shrugged. “Portugal is a case of oppositional defiant disorder with borders. They certainly know you are wanted in Germany, and that might be exactly why this Agent Lopes wishes to help you. All of the institutions in Portugal are a sort of Swiss cheese of genuinely honest agents, timeservers, and very corrupt people.”

  “You mean just like my government”

  He gave me a weird look. “Not even close. You have no idea.”

  “So, this lady you just gave a bribe to wants to meet? Why?”

  “If she’s corrupt, then further bribes may get her to pass on intelligence. If not and she is one of the honorable ones, she might do the same for entirely different reasons. It is not my place to weigh the risk, merely to convey the offer.”

  “I’ll think on it.” I slipped Lopes’ business card into my décolletage. That’s cleavage for those of you who went to the University of Alabama. There’s a reason that women from time immemorial have used it as an additional pocket. There is this space in the front of the bra, between your boobs, that will hold anything securely for at least a little while.

  And then Hansel’s phone rang.

  He pulled it out of his pocket, “Yes?” And then, “No, sir. But you see, I couldn’t let her— No, sir… Yes, sir… No, sir. Here she is.”

  He handed the phone to me, and then Management said in my ear, “From the chatter, I assume the auction did not work out as you hoped?”

  “Not even close. Susan Shackleford has Ray. I need to figure out where she’s going.”

  “Of course. Hansel is taking you to another one of my properties in Lisbon. You are welcome to stay there and enjoy my hospitality while I set my minions on this search.”

  “Thank…thank you. I thought you’d said if we didn’t win the auction, I’d be on my own because you didn’t need the trouble.”

  “That was before Brother Death insulted me and attempted to murder my employee,” the dragon said in a cold and cutting voice. “Oh yes, I take it Hansel did not tell you how Brother Death’s guards set upon him when he attempted to flee. Your hideous blob monster intervened and saved him from certain execution.”

  “He left that part out.” I gave Hansel a sidelong glance. The lawyer shrugged. So maybe his motives might not have been quite as heroic and pure as he made them out to be, but help was help.

  “I know that you are unfamiliar with the supernatural communities which live well outside man’s law, but believe me, such an insult cannot go ignored. To do so would indicate that I no longer have the power to keep safe my employees. I’d lose all my holdings.” There was a pause. “Also, I must confess that, given how much she’s grown in status since the death of Martin Hood, it doesn’t please me to have Susan Shackleford’s might increase further by her harnessing the powers of your child.”

  “The things at the auctio
n seemed to think he was magic, but I’ve never seen any indication Ray’s special.” Beyond rolling over, having a chubby little laugh and, of course, being capable of filling his diaper with absolutely room-clearing stink.

  “It would be nearly impossible not to be, given whose son he is. And whatever gifts he has inherited, I do not want a Master vampire controlling them.”

  If Monster Hunters were paranoid, we had nothing on the monsters we hunted. They were constantly measuring themselves against each other and playing games to not let the other one get any advantage. We’d already made one business arrangement with Management because he hated Asag. Hating Susan was a happy bonus.

  “While you recuperate, I will see what I can do. I’ve instructed Hansel to return to his regular business. I do understand his desire to assist you beyond what he was contractually obligated to do, but I do not pay him to have a heart or impulses. He’s supposed to do exactly as he’s told, not play at being heroic. Leave the heroics to the heroes. I’ll excuse this instance of his going off script, but my employees are of no value to me dead.” A pause. “I do not employ foolish employees.”

  I hung up the phone and looked at Hansel. “Your boss is pissed.”

  “I gathered that.”

  “I’m sorry if I got you in trouble.”

  “Don’t be,” he said. “A man has to do what— Never mind. For once in my life I wanted to fight, not just with words. I’m glad I helped get you out. Even if your little companion might have done it all on his own.” He looked down at where Mr. Trash Bags was getting the floor covers dirty. “What is he by the way?”

  Normally I’d try to hide the fact that I was hanging out with a monster, but Mr. Trash Bags was practically a saint compared to some of Hansel’s clients. “Pocket shoggoth. It’s a long story.”

  “Cuddle Bunny. Made of stars,” Mr. Trash Bags explained.

  Hansel proved that he was worthy of being Management’s employee by making no comment at all, not even the raising of an eyebrow.