“Yeah, actually.” James looked up.
Damien’s smile fell away, and he swallowed. “Seriously?”
“I’ve thought about it. Never gonna quit all the way, but because of the Brownstone Agency, I’ve got a lot more free time. And my kid goes to boarding school, so I don’t see her most of the year. I’ve been doing a lot with my barbeque team, but opening my own place is the natural next step.”
Damien nodded slowly as he paled even more. “Sure. We could always use more people in the barbeque game, but please, I’m begging you—don’t open your place near mine. You’re starting out with freaking Hollywood-level name recognition. You’ll dominate whatever neighborhood you open your place, and every place around you will get destroyed.”
James grunted. “It’ll be a while before I open a place, but sure. I’m not interested in fucking over anyone else. I’ll check around. That’s assuming I even do. Not sure if it’s just bullshit running through my head.”
Some color returned to Damien’s face, and he let out a sigh of relief. “I always figured you liked taking down bounties. You know, that it was fun.”
“Sometimes. It’s satisfying to take down assholes like that mind-control fucker a few months back, but sometimes I’d rather just spend a week concentrating on experimenting with sauces instead of tracking down some asshole.” James nodded toward the window. “And there are fewer and fewer high-level bounties showing up in LA anyway. The roaches are all hiding somewhere else these days. They’ve learned their lesson.”
There was such a thing as being too good at your job.
“You could travel around,” Damien suggested. “I remember that big bounty you took down in Detroit. There is always garbage somewhere in the country, let alone elsewhere in the world. Maybe you could go around to every headquarters of all the different mobs and take them out.”
James shook his head. “I don’t want shit to get complicated, and my fiancée just got a permanent position at UCLA. I need to keep my life a little more stable.”
“Really?” Damien asked. “Congrats. I see your dilemma. You heard what I just said. I think running a barbeque place is great, and I think you’d be great at it, too, as long you build it far, far away from my place.” He stood and extended his hand. “I better get back in the kitchen before my staff decides to barbeque me. Thanks again for everything you’ve done for me, Brownstone.”
James gave the man’s hand a firm shake. “No problem.”
Damien headed back into the kitchen.
I could do it. The way things are going, it won’t be long until I only see a level four or higher every six months in LA. That could be the side job, and I could spend the next fifty years experimenting until I made something even better than God Sauce.
Shit. Don’t know if that’s even possible.
James stared at Shay as she finished explaining an unusual punishment she’d doled out to a student. They’d been chatting about her day in the living room. Listening to her discuss dealing with college students instead of putting bullets in some mercenary’s head was still strange at times. He wasn’t sure if he was completely comfortable with the transition.
“Wait,” he responded as he processed what she had just told him. “So you’re saying this kid thinks he’s haunted now?”
Shay laughed. “Yeah. Once I realized the little sonofabitch was plagiarizing, I thought about how I should handle it. The easy thing would have been to go to the department and initiate a big, annoying formal process to get him in trouble, but I figured, in the spirit of second chances, I’d do something different to scare him straight.” She rolled her eyes. “Reminds me of Peyton’s brother. Too bad that shit didn’t work on him. It would have saved everyone a lot of trouble. But some people can’t learn, no matter how hard you try to teach them.”
“I don’t get it. How the fuck did you make some random college kid think he was haunted?” James thought the whole thing was too complicated. His solution would have been to throw the plagiarist through a window. Universities would probably frown on his straightforward Brownstone Anti-Plagiarism Method, simple and efficient as it was.
Thomas stood up from where he’d been lying and moved to the couch by Shay. He circled a few times before sitting down in front of her and cocking his head to the side to watch her.
“Peyton’s been a little bored for the last few weeks anyway, so I recruited him for a little fun.” Shay leaned over to scratch behind Thomas’ ears. “He hacked the student’s computer and sent him spooky messages and a few old pictures of some random professor-looking guy we grabbed off the web. The messages claimed to be from the spirit of a professor who died right after the gates began opening and was trapped between worlds. He now haunts students who don’t do their own work in a feeble attempt to find rest.” She snickered. “And this idiot bought it. He actually came to me and begged me to allow him to turn in a new version of the paper. Said he’d misunderstood some things.”
James snorted. “What a dumbass.”
“I told him fine.” Shay offered an evil smile. “And then I lied about seeing someone in the doorway who looked like our fake professor. When the student turned around, I was all, ‘Shit. He just disappeared. That’s magic for you.’ I swear that little fucker was ready to wet himself right then and there.” She snickered.
“He’ll probably call the PDA or AET eventually.”
“I hope he does. That’ll be extra fun.” A thoughtful expression crossed Shay’s face. “I had another department meeting today. I’ll spare you the boring details, but I think I’ll need to do some occasional field work. They don’t mind having me as only a lecturer now, but that won’t last forever.”
Thomas curled up beside Shay’s feet, ready for a nap.
“Isn’t archaeology field work just tomb raiding without killing anyone?” James suggested with a curious expression.
“Sort of. I’ve done that shit before. Remember when that CIA guy had me doing normal recovery jobs for him? Sure, they were artifact-recovery-focused rather than general archaeology, but it was the same basic idea.”
James grunted. “You told me you ended up taking some people down anyway on the big job you did for him.”
“Yeah.” Shay grinned. “But I wasn’t hired to do that. The guy didn’t seem eager to hire me again once he realized I was a tomb raider and not just a brave archaeologist, though. Funny thing, too, considering he went to the trouble of helping me. Or maybe…”
“Maybe?”
Shay’s mouth contorted into a frown. “The guy was into aliens. If he realized what you were, he might have wanted to stay the fuck away. Despite some of the lines he gave me about his goals, it might have been that he was just as into handling things in a black ops sort of way as what I was seeing from the assholes associated with Projects Nephilim and Ragnarök. Not gonna bitch too much about being ghosted by a CIA agent, but it’s still a little annoying.”
“It’s good he left you alone.”
“Oh?”
James nodded. “Yeah. Fuck working for the government, anyway, especially some spy. If he really cared about half the shit he told you about, he would have been doing more than grabbing artifacts in random countries. Not being a complete dick isn’t the same thing as being trustworthy. The guy lies all the time for his job. For all you know, he’s killed tons of people who were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“I know, but it was still kind of strange how it went down.” Shay looked at Thomas for a moment. “And I doubt he’s a total piece of shit. I can’t say the guy screwed me or anything. He paid me for what I did, and he helped me with Yulia. The ghosting was kind of annoying, but he’s CIA. But you’re right. That’s kind of what they do; I knew what I was getting into. He’s not important anyway. The important thing is that I’m going to have to go on some digs. Given my specialties, I might end up going to more dangerous places than a lot of my colleagues.”
James grunted. “If you kill a bunch of monsters or b
andits or whatever, won’t people get suspicious?”
He wasn’t sure how necessary it was for Shay to hide her true history, but she had put a lot of effort into keeping her background from most people, so she obviously felt there was still value in keeping it concealed.
I’ve been hiding shit, too. I confess to Father McCartney, but he doesn’t know what I am. I don’t know if that’s okay or not, but it also might not be safe for him to know. It’s not like being an alien is a sin, and the sins are what I’m being forgiven for. Lying to a priest has to be a sin, though, even by omission.
Shay pointed at James, pulling him out of his theological thoughts. “You can solve that problem. You’re convenient that way.”
“Huh? Convenient?” James grimaced. “I don’t want to go on archaeology digs. They sound boring as fuck. Sitting around digging all day? Come on. You think I’d actually like that?”
There was no reason to lie about the truth. It wasn’t like he’d kept his preferences hidden in the past, and if they were going to get married, all the more reason to be honest. Besides, he really didn’t want to have to go on boring digs.
“Your lack of love for ancient history and knowledge is forever a dark spot against you, James Brownstone.” Shay shook a finger at him. “But I’m not talking about bringing you along on digs. You’d probably blow up all the artifacts. I’m talking about the fact that everyone knows I’m dating you. If I go on a dig and end up having to kick someone’s ass, I can just say, ‘Oh, well, James taught me that because he was worried about some criminal kidnapping me,’ and everyone will nod like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. You’re a convenient excuse in a lot of ways for anything that seems weird or off about my life.”
“Oh.” James grunted. “I guess that shit will work. You going on a dig anytime soon?”
Shay shook her head. “Probably in the summer, but I’ll make sure I hang out with Alison at least some of the time during the break.” A wistful expression took over her face. “A few years back I was plotting how to escape a murderous cartel and planning to disappear forever. Now I’m working a semi-normal job and worrying about spending time with a teenager who is soon to be my daughter. I didn’t see that shit coming. You change people by being around them, James. You’re kind of a hurricane that wrecks things but leaves them better after the storm passes.”
“I’m the same man I always was.” James shrugged. “I haven’t changed shit about other people.”
“The only bigger lie than that would be if you said you hate barbeque.”
James grunted. “Need a hundred of those mind-control artifacts to get me to say that shit.”
“Probably a thousand. Ten thousand.” Shay tilted her head, her gaze focused on his chest. “You busy tomorrow?”
“I’ve got a PFW meeting in the afternoon, but that’s it. Why?”
Shay pointed at his chest. “I was reading something the other day about the gates and magic levels, and it got me thinking about that shit in Romania and some of the stuff with Whispy.”
“What about it?”
“You haven’t been able to reach advanced mode without getting pissed pretty much since then. I thought he said he was modifying you so you wouldn’t need to. You know, use all the background magic and shit?”
“I think he’s tried his best, but there are limits.” James reached under his shirt and fingered the amulet. “From what he says, there’s not enough magic outside of weird places like that forest or kemanas for the adaptation to work by itself. Maybe in a few hundred years. I’ll probably be dead long before then, though.”
“I see.” Shay nodded slowly. “In that case, I’ve got some ideas. Let’s hit Warehouse Five tomorrow and do some more tests.”
3
Shay’s 9mm bullets bounced off James’ chest and clattered on the cement floor of the warehouse, as crumpled from the force of impact as if she’d been shooting them into a thick metal wall. She gave up after ten shots and pulled off her ear protection.
“It’s a shame to even try to harm those abs,” she murmured. She’d told James to take off his shirt, since there was no reason to destroy a perfectly good shirt with their experiments. Tendrils from his already-bonded amulet visibly extended into much of his upper chest, and the amulet had sunken in, as it normally did.
James used to be slightly embarrassed when Shay saw him this way, but she never seemed to care or mind. She couldn’t hear the symbiont, and in some ways, she still treated Whispy as a fancy artifact rather than the intelligent, self-aware entity he was. For now, that made everything better for all three of them.
Recommend varied attacks for greater adaptation, Whispy sent. He’d made the same complaint concerning the previous few attacks from Shay: a knife, a tube that blasted fireballs, and a vial of acid.
It’s fine. We’ll get to something interesting. Shay knows what she’s doing.
After what had happened in Romania, James was more grateful than ever about how thorough Shay had been in helping the symbiont’s adaptation range. He wasn’t sure he would have escaped as unscathed as he had from some of the encounters in the forest without that previous exposure to many attack types. It was easy to anticipate that an enemy might use a fireball or bullet, but in a world of magic, monsters and alien nanoforms, a little extra training and lateral thinking could save a man’s life.
Maybe she’s got a special artifact she wants to try, and she just wants to make sure everything’s the same as it was before the forest.
Weapons and artifacts filled several nearby tables. So far, none of the tests had done more than scratch or tickle James.
Shay furrowed her brow and grabbed her tachi from a table. “Might as well establish more baselines just to be sure.” She looked uncertain as she flexed her fingers around the hilt of the long blade.
“It can’t hurt me anymore. That Harriken bastard got one chance, and he fucked it up.” James made a fist and raised his arm. “Go ahead.” He grunted. “Even if you chop it off, I should be able to use Whispy combined with a potion to regenerate it. Might be good to practice. Almost have to thank He Who Hunts for helping me learn that.”
“Yeah, what a helpful guy. Thing. Whatever the fuck he was, and no, we’re not going to practice regenerating lost limbs, since lost limbs are a lot more than regenerating lost fingers, which is what happened last time.” Shay swung the sword, which bounced off James’ arm with a clang and left only a shallow scratch. With more confidence in her movements, she stabbed at his chest, but the second blow didn’t hurt him any worse than the first attack. A third slash also proved pointless.
Ineffective attacks for adaptation, Whispy complained. Near maximum adaptation achieved.
Get over it. We’re trying some shit here. We can’t get stronger if we don’t know our limits.
“Huh,” Shay murmured. “I just realized something.”
“What?” James asked.
Shay set the sword down and walked over to tap the amulet. “You’re tougher now even without advanced mode armor. A lot tougher. It used to be at least I could get a half-decent cut in with some of this stuff, but now I can’t even scratch you after simple bonding, and that’s before we even start talking about your way more powerful regeneration.”
“Yeah, well, he’s been tinkering and shit.” James shrugged. “Optimizing me. There are some tradeoffs, but he’s doing the stuff that works best with the way I fight.”
Shay tilted her head as she looked James up and down. “Does that ever bother you?”
“Not anymore.” James patted the amulet. “I’m not even human, and he basically made me human. He fucked with my genes and shit from the very beginning. It’s too late to start bitching now. He’s had plenty of time to make changes that I didn’t want, but he hasn’t, other than that shit when I was a kid. If he fucks with me too much, he knows I’ll just never put him on again or throw him in a volcano or some shit.”
Continued usage necessary for maximum adaptation, Whispy noted
.
Yeah, yeah, yeah. Just keep in mind what might happen if you don’t do what I say.
Shay laughed. “For a guy who wants to keep his life simple, accepting that an amulet has rewritten your DNA and continues to do so seems a bit much.”
“How is it complicated? It’s not like I have to do anything,” James replied. “Do you spend a lot of time thinking about how your cells work in your body?”
“No, I suppose I don’t. True enough. Anyway, let’s get back to business and do another baseline test.” Shay smiled as she slid her ear protection back on, walked over to another table, and picked up a high-powered rifle. “A little muzzle velocity makes all the difference to normal people.” She aimed it at his shoulder and pulled the trigger.
The loud crack echoed throughout the warehouse as the bullet bounced off his shoulder, leaving a small scratch that started to heal after a few seconds. James wasn’t bothering to wear anything to protect his hearing, but the loud noises weren’t hurting his ears. Another example of adaptation.
You can become the perfect weapon if you let go long enough for him to change you. Does that mean the Vax normally don’t?
“I adapt,” James noted. “I’ve always adapted to shit. I used to think it was just him adapting, but now I get it’s always been both of us. So, no, it doesn’t freak me out, because it’s useful.”
“But you’ve adapted a lot more these last few years than the rest of your life.” Shay set the rifle down. “I wonder why that is? Why the acceleration? I know you’ve been using him more, but I think it’s more than just that.”
Maximum link integration necessary for extended modification without risk of neural damage. Improved link integration facilitating more efficient adaptation.
James chuckled. “If I’m understanding him, it’s because I can talk to him now.”
“That makes sense, as much as anything with adaptative alien symbionts make sense. The question becomes how much that extends out. You’ve got to have some sort of limit.”
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