Both Barrels of Monster Hunter Legends (Legends of the Monster Hunter Book 1)

by Josh Reynolds

  Offering her hand, Nadya tried to force as much warmth into her smile as she could. It didn’t work very well. “Miss Kulikova,” she said. “We spoke on the phone.”

  Oksana’s smile held a good deal more warmth. And hers was even genuine. “Yes. Miss Valentina,” she said the name with a hint of amazed disbelief. She grasped the younger woman’s hand and looked her over. “My lord, I never thought I’d see you again.”

  Nadya saw a hint of tears at the corners of the woman’s eyes. Oh, geez, keep it together, she thought. She suspected if she told Oksana that, it’d only make her cry harder so she took a gentler approach. “Well, here I am,” she said, feeling awkward about the situation. She tried to think of something more to say but came up blank.

  Then the older woman hugged her tightly. Nadya’s awkward level kicked up half a dozen notches. “Hey,” she said, trying to squirm her way free. “Nice to see you, too. Kinda didn’t plan on being smothered to death today.”

  “Oh,” Oksana exclaimed before moving away. “Sorry.” She attempted to smooth her clothing. It was hard to do since her clothes lacked any wrinkles. “I believe there was a matter you wanted to discuss.” She turned and extended an arm towards the doors leading into Nikolaevna’s Orphanage for Lost Children. “My office is this way.”

  For a long moment, Nadya couldn’t step towards the doors. Over the last eleven years, she’d managed to suppress the painful memories of her time spent at the orphanage. Now, thanks to the brain rattling she’d gotten from her freakshow sister, the memories had been dredged up from the murky depths of her mind.

  She’d thought by going back, she could put the memories to rest. It seemed like a good enough plan and Vladimir backed her on it.

  Well, it’s gonna be kinda hard to carry out if you can’t even get past the fucking foyer, the annoying mental voice scolded.

  Hey, why don’t you go wander through a brainstorm and get yourself electrocuted? With firm steps, she headed for the door. See? I’m doing it.

  What do you want, a fucking cookie?

  Nadya decided that it was silly to have an argument with herself. She therefore decided to not reply to the voice.

  The voice had other plans.

  Oh, what, are you gonna mope now?

  Maintaining the silent treatment, Nadya pulled the door open.

  Once they arrived at Oksana’s office, Nadya found herself pacing again. She wasn’t used to all the stillness but that was only part of it. The whole place had her on edge. She forced herself to stand still before the damned voice started in on her again. The office was as spartan as the rest of the orphanage. A small wooden desk with mismatched chairs on either side. The chair situated in front of the desk was short with dark green pads. Stuffing protruded from the worn padding.

  Figuring that sitting down might keep her from making a mad dash for the nearest escape route, she risked sitting in the questionable chair. It let out a frustrated creak and Nadya prepared to jump out if it decided to collapse. It didn’t.

  Oksana moved around the desk and took a seat in her taller but equally unstable chair. She gave Nadya a bright smile. “You’ve grown into a beautiful young woman,” she said.

  No thanks to this place, she thought. Again, a mean thought that would probably make the old crone sob. Instead, she returned the smile as best she could. Who says I’m not diplomatic? I’ll kick their fucking ass.

  “Yea…” she said, breaking the awkward silence. “I’ve got a pretty lucrative career now.” Yea, I kick people’s fucking asses, she added mentally. “And my employer is a philanthropist of sorts. So when I explained about this place and your…uh…budgetary issues, he was more than happy to help.”

  As Nadya delivered her little speech, Oksana’s eyes grew distant. Her bright smile faded. “Olga was in charge back then. Those were bad years.” She shuddered. “So many deaths.” Her eyes focused on Nadya. “You were smart to leave.”

  “Good to know,” Nadya said, placing the briefcase on the desk. “The years are about to get much better.”

  “He’s still here, you know,” Oksana cut in.

  Her fingers froze on the briefcase’s latch. “What?” She blinked. “Who?”

  “The young boy you tried to keep safe,” Oksana said.

  Nadya’s blood ran cold. Her eyes narrowed. “Pavel?”

  Oksana nodded, the smile returning to her face. “Yes, he’s never left us.”

  “That’s nice,” she said, although the tone of her voice said otherwise. “Anyway, enough about him. New Year’s has come a day early this year, Miss Kulikova.” She flipped the latches on the briefcase and turned it towards the woman.

  Oksana’s eyes traveled down to the open case. Her distant expression vanished. “Oh. Oh my.”

  “Yes,” Nadya said, smirking. “Oh, oh my. A hundred thousand dollars worth of oh, oh my, actually. Yours to do with as you please. I’d advise getting some new beds, but that’s just my own personal thing.” She stood and prepared to get going as soon as was politely possible. When she saw the fresh tears in Oksana’s eyes, she knew that wasn’t going to be anytime soon. She considered darting for the door anyway, before the real waterworks started.

  “This whole place should be burned,” the older woman spat, her previous good cheer gone. “It’s cursed. It’s been cursed. And I believe it’ll go on being cursed, despite the…very generous…contribution you and your employer have made.”

  Well, at least she realizes what a shit hole she’s working at.

  “Look, there’s enough there to solve all the problems you’ve got. Food, bedding, heating. Shit, you can even get some foliage for that shitty playground you’ve got out there. It’ll be fine. No more curse.”

  “It’s more than that,” Oksana cried out, shaking her head. “Sometimes I think this orphanage was built on a fault line leading straight to hell. There are certainly enough damned souls wandering the halls.”

  Nadya was turning. She was reaching for the door. She was about two seconds away from darting out of the shitty office and fleeing the whole shitty building. But then Oksana ‘Dredge Up the Fucking Past’ Kulikova mentioned those damned souls wandering those damned halls. Nadya froze in mid-motion and turned back to the woman. She tilted her head to the side, staring hard at Oksana. “What?”

  “Always around the New Year,” she muttered, her eyes gone distant again.

  “What?” asked Nadya again, her voice dropping into a disbelieving whisper. She started to move towards Oksana, eyes fixed on her.

  “Always three children. Always the youngest. Four…five years old,” Oksana shook her head. “Always so young. Already, little Gregori has been taken.”

  Nadya rounded the desk and gripped Oksana’s arms. “What?!” she asked a third time, her voice rising with exasperation. The woman’s words brought a flood of memories of her time spent at the orphanage. A cold winter night where she’d witnessed a young boy taken by an ethereal woman. Oksana looked at her and she could see the terror on the woman’s face. She let go of her and turned away, heading for the door.

  “Where are you going?” Oksana called after her.

  “To take care of the curse,” she shot back over her shoulder. “Then maybe you’ll stop bitching and start taking care of the damned souls that are still alive in this place.” She pushed the door open and strode out into the hall.

  “This is why I hate poking around in my memories,” she grumbled to herself. “It just keeps bringing up more shit.”

  Least we’ll have an interesting night, the voice offered.

  “Fuck off,” she muttered in response.

  III. Conscience is a Killer

  A yellow Mini Cooper S sat parked across the street from the orphanage. Nadya headed for it. It may not have been the most inconspicuous vehicle for a professional killer, but she loved the thing. She unlocked the trunk and headed for it.

  She’d started carrying a pistol with silver ammunition since escaping the M.A.D. complex. That she had in a
shoulder holster hidden under her leather jacket. The Mini was where she kept the fun toys. Pulling the trunk open, she grabbed a metal case at least three times bigger than the briefcase she’d delivered.

  Well, you wanted to deal with your past, she thought. Now you get to spend the night with it. Maybe kill a couple demons in the process.

  She slammed the trunk closed, hefted the case and headed back to the orphanage. It occurred to her that she really didn’t have to do this. She’d dropped off the money, did her part, appeased her conscience. Now she could take off and let them use some of the hundred grand to hire a professional exorcist.

  Ah, hell, she thought as she re-entered the dank building. Never killed a ghost before. Could be fun.

  “So here’s the deal,” Nadya said to Oksana as they moved down one of the orphanage’s many halls. “I’m gonna stick around tonight. Do some perimeter sweeps, maybe cause some massive damage to your decor. How many kids you got here now?”

  “Forty-two,” Oksana replied.

  Nadya nodded. “Alright, gather them all in the cafeteria. Staff, too. Lock the place up. Don’t come out till morning. I don’t care if you hear your mother whistling sweet lullabies outta her asshole, those doors don’t fucking open. Got it?”

  The older woman nodded. “That shouldn’t be difficult. Tonight is the New Year’s Eve celebration so the children will be going to the cafeteria shortly anyway.”

  “Good,” Nadya said. “Make sure no one’s snuck off to find a place to hide. Do roll call, count heads, whatever.”

  Oh, wait.

  Happy birthday. Big two-oh. You’re no longer a rowdy teenager. Time to grow up, stop fucking about, get a real job, other stuff. Maybe that’s why I’m doing this. Mother shit fuck…I’ve matured.

  She shook her head.

  Enough of that shit. You can stick a candle in a cupcake and watch Scrooged later. For now, stay focused. You’re gonna kill a childhood trauma in a bit.

  “Right,” she said, turning to Oksana. “Go do that.”

  Oksana didn’t move. Nadya hated it when people did that. It usually meant they had something deep and meaningful to share. Which usually left her with a powerful urge to hit something.

  “What will you do?” the older woman asked, a concerned look on her face.

  Nadya sighed. “Isn’t that obvious? I’m gonna smoke Father Frost and his freaky-ass Granddaughter.”

  Oksana’s eyes widened with shock. “Is that who you think they—”

  “I don’t know what the hell they are,” Nadya cut her off. “I don’t give a fuck. After tonight, they’re not showing their child-killing asses around here again. Now go get the kids in the cafeteria.”

  She breathed a sigh of relief when Oksana nodded and turned away. She headed for the stairs.

  Rounding a corner, Nadya collided with a scrawny, shaggy-haired bag of bones pushing a broom. “Fucker!” she snarled, rubbing her forehead where the broom handle struck her.

  “I’m very sorry,” the man said softly as he pushed himself up from the floor. Nadya refrained from a shocked gasp when she got a good look at him. He seemed to be the same age she was but it looked like someone played connect the dots across the guy’s face with a straight razor. One of the scars ran across his right eye. Or, more specifically, where his right eye would have been if that eye patch weren’t in the way.

  The mutilated janitor moved past but Nadya reached out and grabbed his shoulder. “Wait a minute,” she said, leaning in to look at him closer. He winced and tried to pull away. She tightened her grip. “Holy shit,” she whispered. “Pavel?”

  He stopped squirming and looked back at her. “I know you.” Pavel burst into tears. Not just a light drizzle, either, but full on downpour sobs. Really, very impressive waterworks.

  Nadya responded by letting go of him. “Sure, you do,” she nodded. “You almost got me killed once. Thanks for the experience. Looks like you’ve seen better days. Bet it’s a tragic story. Here’s an idea, go down to the cafeteria and tell some punk kid considering a career in backstabbery.” She turned away, hoping he would actually listen.

  “Please, wait,” he called.

  Nadya let out a frustrated groan. Of course, that’d be too damn easy. She turned back to him. “Save your breath. I’m not forgiving you.”

  “I don’t deserve it,” he sniffled. At least he seemed to be getting the tears under control. More or less.

  “That’s right. Two points,” she said. “Now get the hell out of here and let me do my damn job.”

  “I was just so scared.”

  Nadya began to wonder what it was about this place that gave everyone to the inability to shut the fuck up and leave her alone. She began to strongly consider hurting Pavel. After all, he had a whole other eye to rip out.

  “I thought maybe if I hurt you, then the others would accept me,” Pavel continued. “They didn’t. They only hated me more. No one trusted me.”

  “I wonder why…” Nadya muttered, weighing the pros and cons of breaking his nose. She was still trying out this whole ‘conscience’ thing, but it seemed like that sort of act would make it a tad pissy.

  Maybe if she tossed another hundred bucks in the donation bin. Actually, that seemed a bit high for a broken nose. Especially a double-crossing shithead of a nose. Certainly that should earn some sort of discount.

  Nadya was damn close to factoring just how much she’d need to fork out to not feel the least bit of guilt at having flattened Pavel’s face when she realized he was still talking.

  “—then I’m here for you,” he finished, looking hopeful. Nadya hated that look. “Sorry, what are you babbling, Captain Etch-a-Sketch?” she asked.

  “I said,” he tried again. “That if you’re here to do a job then I’m here for you. Whatever you need from me, I’ll do it.”

  He seemed serious about the offer. That made Nadya happy.

  “Great!” she said, giving him a grin. “Now get your ass downstairs and help barricade the cafeteria.” She glanced at her watch. It would be dark soon. After that, there was no telling when the scary monsters would start coming out. She was thankful to see that, although clearly disappointed, Pavel listened to her. She watched him carry his broom off in the direction of the stairs.

  Turning back the way she’d been going, Nadya jogged down the hall. As usual, there was plenty to do and precious little time to do it in.

  IV. The Art of Self-Reflection

  Nadya checked her watch. It was close to midnight. So far, she hadn’t seen any spooky girls or creepy old men wandering the halls. Her hope was that the lack of any prey would draw whatever the hell they were to her.

  Of course, if they decided to try for the smorgasbord in the cafeteria, things could get ugly. Which was why she’d left a cell phone with Oksana. Just in case any spectral assholes decided to pop in for the gift giving ceremony.

  Her pistol was aimed at the floor, ready to bring it up at a moment’s notice. She’d started her search at the entrance and made her way room-by-room through the orphanage. At the moment, she was searching what passed for the nurse’s office. There were more bandages than antibiotics. And there weren’t many bandages.

  Once she was satisfied that the room was empty, Nadya exited and locked the door behind her. She was just about done with the first floor. After that, she’d double back to the stairs and start on the second. Wash, rinse and repeat until she found something interesting.

  Something interesting that could kill me with a single touch, her inner pessimist piped up. But hey, don’t let that stop you.

  “It never has before,” she whispered in response. Speaking aloud to an inner voice struck her as a level of crazy she hadn’t gone to before. Sure, she’d offered the occasional curse at it, but that was a bit different than carrying on a conversation with herself out loud.

  Right, the voice laughed. It’s worked every other time you’ve put yourself into imminent peril, so let’s just keep at it, shall we? See how long it takes be
fore our luck runs out.

  “Would you shut the fuck up?” Nadya hissed at herself. “I’m trying to do a goddamn job here.”

  “That’s just it, isn’t it?” the voice called again, only this time it sounded different. Louder. And behind her.

  Nadya spun and gasped as she saw herself standing there. “What the fuck is this?” she asked herself.

  “It’s all about the job. It has been ever since Vlad found us,” the doppelganger said, ignoring the question.

  “Us?” Nadya asked, starting to raise her gun at whatever stood in the hall with her. She wasn’t sure if it was a clone sent by M.A.D. or if Xenia had implanted a chip in her brain or if it was one of Ded Moroz’s tricks. Just another way to lure in his victims.

  “Or, hey,” the doppelganger offered with a smirk. “There’s always the possibility that we’ve finally lost it. Gone completely mental.”

  “Fuck you,” Nadya spat, taking aim at the head that looked identical to her own. Her finger touched the trigger and after a moment’s hesitation squeezed it. The gun bucked in her hand. Her ears rang from the concussive blast in the narrow hall. Her double’s head snapped back, brains spraying over the wall behind her.

  The double’s body dropped to the floor, lifeless. Nadya realized the hand holding her gun was trembling and lowered it. She took a step forward and looked down at the doppelganger. Into her own dead eyes with the nice little hole drilled right between them.

  “Nice shot,” the voice spoke up, from behind her again.

  Turning, Nadya saw another double standing there. She looked back to the dead one and saw it had vanished. The double laughed, drawing Nadya’s attention back to her.

  “Look, I’ll clear it up for you so you don’t go wasting all your ammo and get us both killed,” the double said, offering a friendly smile. “I’m you. You’re me. We’re all one big, happy Nadya family. Specifically, I’m your subconscious. That little voice in the back of your head that tries to keep you from doing stupid shit like this.”