The Unbelievable Mr Brownstone Omnibus 3

by Michael Anderle

  His heart rate kicked up, and he flexed his hands. What if the disruption field from earlier had nothing to do with Shay and him? Maybe it was part of a desperate cult defense against the monster? The timing fit.

  James brushed snow off his face as he brooded about the Wendigo choosing to attack the cult shortly before his arrival. If the monster had killed them all a day before, the Canadian government would have likely noticed, given that they had the area under surveillance, and rescinded the bounty. He could have waited for a nice his-and-hers ass-kicking down in Mexico.

  Is this bad luck, or is this fucker targeting me for some reason? It’s just a fucking monster.

  James gritted his teeth. Maybe Heather was on to more than he realized. He’d assumed it was Canadian intelligence or the mercenaries trying to watch him in cyberspace, but if someone was watching him and also working with magical forces, they might have been able to direct a monster his way, if only to screw with him. A convenient portal or straight conjuring, even.

  More fuckers out there want a piece of me? They thought they could win if it was just Shay and me in the middle of a job? Screw them. At least He Who Hunts had the balls to come at me in LA instead of trying to ambush me in the middle of nowhere.

  James let out a low growl of irritation. His eyes narrowed on the massive monster several yards away. Whatever the reason, the Wendigo was the source of all his current irritation.

  Yes, Whispy sent. Anger. Hatred.

  The Wendigo didn’t move or run. Instead, it sniffed the air as its glowing blue eyes stared at James.

  “This was supposed to be a fun little thing for Shay and me,” James yelled. “To get it out of our systems. Then I had to come up here in this fucking snow to take out these cultists, and now I don’t even know if I’m gonna get full money because of some piece-of-shit cannibal spirit-monster who couldn’t leave well enough the fuck alone and is the weapon in some asshole’s trap.”

  He waited, glaring at the monster as if daring it to charge him and prove its might. The vicious creature, which had killed and ripped apart so many men, didn’t move, roar, or try to talk. It continued staring at him as if sizing him up.

  Shay didn’t tell me if this thing can talk, but probably not. Who’s the real monster now, fucker?

  Engage enemy for additional adaptation, Whispy demanded. Kill enemy.

  Even a bloodthirsty alien amulet gave good advice now and again.

  James yanked out his .45. “This shit ends now. I don’t even give a shit if there’s no bounty for you. You have probably been eating people for a long time now. Go back to hell, asshole. If someone sent you, they should know I’ll find them eventually and fuck them up, just like I did the Harriken, the Council and the Drow queen. People should stop fucking with me, already.”

  The creature took a single step forward and let out a low growl, blood staining its lips and the fur around its mouth.

  “Finally ready to fight, fucker?” James sneered and fired three quick shots into the creature’s chest. The Wendigo jerked back, but no wound or obvious blood appeared. If the monster hadn’t reacted, James wouldn’t have known he’d hit it.

  The Wendigo roared and thrust its arms to its side. That had to mean something.

  “That hurt, huh?” James aimed at the monster’s head. “How about this, then?” He pulled the trigger. The swirling snow made it hard to see, but he was sure a small hole appeared for a second before sealing. “One thing I miss about the Harriken is how easy those fuckers were to kill.”

  James grunted and emptied his clip into the Wendigo’s head. This time the assault produced obvious holes, but they disappeared too quickly to do anything more than inconvenience the monster. No blood of any color leaked out of the wounds.

  Damn it. Maybe this thing really is some sort of spirit, or he just regenerates damned fast.

  Engage and kill enemy, Whispy demanded. Adaptation potential high.

  Shay crept into his thoughts.

  Shit. If I go down for whatever reason, that thing might go after her. I can’t mess around.

  Engage and kill enemy, his amulet insisted. Other tactical considerations irrelevant.

  James snorted.

  It wasn’t all that long ago you were trying to guilt-trip me about my friends, and now fuck ‘em, huh? Well, fuck you. I’m taking this thing down, finding the damned cult leader, taking his head, and getting my fucking reward. Then I’m gonna go back to somewhere you only read about snow in books.

  James ejected his empty magazine, yanked a magazine containing anti-magic bullets out of his tactical vest, and slapped it into his gun.

  “Eat this shit and see how you like it, you big furry asshole, and thanks for making me waste money.” James put another tight three-round burst into the monster’s chest with a satisfied grin.

  What the fuck?

  The smile faded. No gaping wounds followed, nothing more than a quick jerk from the Wendigo. The anti-magic bullets hadn’t accomplished anything more than his conventional rounds. So, he’d both managed to waste money and do nothing to weaken his enemy.

  The Wendigo didn’t roar or bellow. Its huge chest rose and fell as it stared at James as if waiting for him to make another move.

  “You’re more than just some rampaging monster, aren’t you? And here I figured those Brotherhood fucks were just being stupid.” James shook his head. “Why don’t you come at me, already? Let’s see what you got, if you’re so tough.”

  With a final echoing bellow, the Wendigo loped off with no sign of injury.

  “Damn it,” James shouted. “And now you’re fucking running away? This shit isn’t over.”

  He yanked his feet out of the snow and tromped after the white enemy disappearing into the snowy haze filling the area. He fired again, but if he hit, it didn’t slow his enemy.

  “Should have taken the fucking sword,” he muttered and holstered his gun.

  The creature pulled away, and James’ heart sped up. Something was off. If he couldn’t hurt the creature even with anti-magic bullets, why was it running away?

  No way was he letting it escape.

  This thing is just fucking with me; trying to stall me maybe. Some piece-of-shit monster comes in here and starts fucking with my bounties and makes me spend longer in the middle of a fucking blizzard. I’m gonna fucking tear that thing apart.

  James ground his teeth. Maybe it was an unfortunate coincidence or a magical conspiracy. He didn’t care. All he cared about was taking the monster out and making him pay for wasting his time.

  Sufficient power for advanced transformation achieved, Whispy announced.

  Then do it.

  James growled.

  Silver-green metallic tendrils shot from the amulet, stretching over his chest, back, and arm, a blade extending from atop his armored arm.

  Faint surprise struck him. He’d been angry, but not nearly as angry as the last time he’d achieved advanced mode.

  Achieve adaptation before killing enemy, Whispy ordered.

  This thing ruined my trip and might be here just to screw with me.

  James narrowed his eyes. The sky was even darker than before. Once nightfall came, even with Whispy’s help, he wouldn’t be able to track down his enemy. All the more reason to kill the Wendigo soon.

  I’ll fucking send it back to where it came from. Your adaptation shit is way down on the list of crap I care about right now.

  He rushed after his prey, his legs stronger, but the Wendigo was already out of sight. He almost asked Whispy to reactivate thermal vision mode before remembering it wouldn’t help. The angry thoughts circulating in his head squashed his attempts to think of alternatives.

  “Where are you, you sonofabitch?” he shouted, challenging the storm as much as the monster. “You’ll kill all those Brotherhood assholes, but you’re afraid of me?” He growled. “You stalling? Is that what this is? For what? Unless you drop a nuke on me, I’m not going down. Fucking face me already.”

  The b
ounty hunter continued stomping through the snow in the direction he’d last spotted the monster. He grinned as he caught sight of two huge footprints leading toward a huge gray storage tank. He rushed to follow the trail, even as falling snow started to fill in the prints.

  Stop running, fucker. Come on, you’re supposed to be this big bad cannibal spirit of the North.

  James frowned and slowed. The snow was not piling up on or around the tank. Instead, it angled off, as if an invisible dome surrounded the entire thing. He followed the footprints until he reached the edge of the invisible field. A thin layer of melting snow surrounded the area, with higher snow drifts all around.

  Footprints in the shallow inner snow layer continued from the edge of the invisible dome toward a closed round hatch at the bottom of the tank. It didn’t look big enough for James to fit through, let alone the Wendigo.

  “Can the fucker walk through walls? That would explain a lot.”

  James stomped toward the hatch, his anger almost blinding him to the fact that he wasn’t having to make his way through deep snow. He sped up as he approached the tall tank.

  “Stop fucking running,” James shouted. “I’m here, and I’m pissed. The longer I spend here, the angrier I get.”

  He jogged over to a ladder leading to the roof of the tank. Half the ladder was missing, only rust and a few bolts remaining.

  The Wendigo might blend into the environment, but it couldn’t just disappear. The damned thing had to be around somewhere.

  James grunted. If it was running, that meant it was afraid. Even if his gun didn’t work, maybe the monster knew its claws and strength wouldn’t work on him.

  He stared at the tank. If it could walk through walls, that was the obvious hiding spot.

  “Time to open this can,” he rumbled and raised his blade.

  17

  Shay paced the storage shed, her heart pounding. She stopped a few times to kick at the walls, her boot’s thud echoing in the small room.

  “This is what I get for trying to reset our fucking luck,” she muttered. “Now James is fighting a fucking cannibal spirit in a damned blizzard, and I’m trapped in here doing nothing. Great. Fucking great. Best his-and-hers ass-kicking ever.” She threw her hands up in disgust. “Next time we’ll just fly to Chernobyl and roll around in the reactor core. That’ll be just as much fun.”

  The air on the opposite wall shimmered, and Shay snapped up her AK.

  “Of course. I should have expected this.”

  Shay narrowed her eyes, watching the shimmering air condense into a blurry image of a woman in a dark skirt and a matching top.

  She snorted. “Seriously? I don’t have time for ghost bullshit right now. If you’re the spirit of some sad pioneer chick or something, come back another time after we’re done clearing out a cult and killing a Wendigo.”

  I should be off helping James kick Wendigo ass, not dealing with this bullshit.

  The woman chuckled. “A ghost? Is that what you think I am?”

  “Oh, you talk.” Shay kept her gun pointed. “I’ve got anti-magic bullets in here, by the way, so don’t think you’ll be safe just because of what you are. You’re not the first ghost I’ve run into.”

  In truth, she had no idea how effective the bullets might be against ghosts since she’d only had a few brief encounters with such entities, but confidence could cow supernaturals as well as normal people.

  “I’m not worried,” the blurry woman responded, her tone amused. A slight accent underlay her words that Shay didn’t recognize, which was rare for the tomb raider. The woman crossed her arms and shook her head, although the blurriness of her face made it impossible to read her expression. “It’s proven surprisingly difficult for me to contact you. I hope you appreciate the effort.”

  “You aren’t a ghost, are you?” Shay narrowed her eyes.

  “I never claimed such a thing, Miz Carson.”

  Shay slung her rifle over her shoulder. Whatever was about to happen wouldn’t involve a gun battle, although she kept her hands at her sides so she could go for her sword if necessary. The tachi had proven its worth against a variety of magical foes, to the point she trusted it implicitly. Maybe a mistake, but she hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

  “How do you know who I am?” Shay asked.

  The blurry woman shrugged. “Is it really a secret? I understand that it was before, but you’ve become more visible as time has gone by and you’ve let your past leak through to your present. I’m good at finding things out when I need to be. Let’s just say it’s part of my job.”

  “Please.” Shay scoffed. “You don’t know shit about me. You’re bluffing.”

  “Don’t I?” The woman shook her head. “You were nothing but a murderous parasite, a killer for hire. Your every action made the world a worse place. Even if you let yourself believe you were killing bad people, you were doing it at the behest of scum. You were a tool of evil and corruption. Pathetic.”

  Shay’s heart rate kicked up. Even if more people knew her past than a year ago, that didn’t mean some random woman showing up in Alberta should know it.

  Fuck. This isn’t just a bluff.

  “The question is,” the blurry woman continued, “have you truly left your past behind? You hide behind the mask of the tomb raider who goes by ‘Aletheia,’ but it’s not as if you never hurt anyone on your job, now is it? I wonder if you’ve killed more people as a tomb raider than you did as a killer?”

  “Fuck you. I don’t hurt innocent people, and I don’t kill people who aren’t trying to kill me.” Shay’s stomach tightened. How did the woman know so much about her?

  The accent doesn’t sound Canadian, either primary Anglophone or Quebecois. So, a witch from Europe? Who the fuck is she? Time to go on offense.

  “If you’re here to punish me for my past, bring it on,” Shay snarled. “I can sleep at night, and I’m not apologizing to some random blurry-ass woman for who I am, or was. The question is, can you sleep at night?”

  “No.” The woman laughed. “Often I can’t. The demons who haunt me are far worse than you can possibly imagine, which is why I’ve devoted my life to protecting people from them.” The blurry woman took a few steps toward Shay.

  She clutched the hilt of her sword. “Don’t come any closer if you don’t want to die. Like I said, I don’t kill people who aren’t trying to kill me, but that doesn’t mean I’m gonna be stupid about letting people surprise me. I still have no idea who the fuck you are.”

  The woman shrugged. “I’m not actually here, Miz Carson. You can’t hurt me. If it sets you at ease, I’ve put a lot of effort into relaying this image to you so we can talk, despite the interference the Brotherhood has set up. I wanted to take this opportunity to talk to you while you’re alone. I’ve sacrificed paying attention to another important matter just for this conversation, so I hope it ends up being useful.”

  “Talk about what? My past? Me killing people on tomb raids? If you’re going to try to Scrooge me, don’t bother. I’ve already turned my back on my past, and I’m fine with the way I’m living my life now.” Shay kept her hand on her sword. “I don’t need to be told any of that shit about my past, and I know all about the people I’ve screwed over. And, yes, I’ll kill anyone who threatens me or those I care about. So either try to kill me or fuck off.”

  “You misunderstand me, but I’m happy to hear you say that,” the woman replied. “Not the killing, but that you understand your past. It means you have some sense of morality left and care about someone other than yourself. That means you might actually respond to what I have to say.”

  Shay frowned. “Who the hell are you? You can’t be with the Brotherhood. They don’t allow women, and you don’t sound like a person who would agree with their twisted bullshit.”

  The woman snorted. “They are magical parasites who squander their glorious abilities on preying on the weak. No, I’m not with the Brotherhood, and I don’t care that they’re dying. I’m only interested in
protecting the Earth and Oriceran from those who would prey on them, and if you’ve truly turned your back on the past and care about others, then you should care about that too.”

  Shay let her hand drop from her sword. “You don’t get to lecture me. I’ve dealt with all sorts of threats, including the Council. I’ve done my part, and then some. Can you say the same?”

  “Yes. I do my part every day.” The blurry woman turned her back and sighed. She marched over to the wall and crossed her arms before turning back around. “How much do you really know about James Brownstone?”

  “Huh? What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “The question is easy to understand.” The woman’s voice sounded distorted, and her already blurred image faded for a few seconds. “Do you really know James Brownstone, Miss Carson? Can you say you do? Do you know where he comes from?”

  Shay burst out laughing. “I’ve been fucking him. I think I know him pretty damned well.”

  The blurriness around the woman’s face denied Shay the ability to read surprise or understanding on it.

  “I see,” the woman murmured. She sighed. “That’s…surprising, but be that as it may, you should understand that just because he looks like a man and tests say he’s a man, he’s not a man. He’s far, far from it.”

  Shay frowned. “Surprising? Why would it be… Wait. What are you getting at, exactly?”

  “I know you’ve seen it. He’s more than a mere bounty hunter. He’s a violent monster. He’s done well to hide it, but I know he’s not just a human with a nice artifact.” Venom dripped from the woman’s voice. “And if you know him as well as you suspect, then you must understand that as well.”

  Shay swallowed. “Who the fuck are you? What do you think you know about James, you blurry bitch?”