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

by Josh Reynolds

  My insides went cold. I turned her loose and she moved a few steps away.

  “I didn’t mean it like that,” I said.

  “I know,” she replied. “But one tender feeling can turn to another so easily. I can’t take the risk.

  The doctor in North Fork told me that I had a brain concussion and made me rest in bed for a week. Sarah asked about me often but only visited once. When she did she was distant. I understood, but it was still a hard thing to bear.

  I sent off a telegram to Mr. Crenshaw telling him the situation. The reply came the next day.

  UNDERSTAND YOUR SITUATION STOP

  IT CHANGES NOTHING STOP

  COMPLETE YOUR ASSIGNMENT STOP

  CRENSHAW

  I balled the note up and threw it away. The next day I put Sarah on the stage to San Francisco. Maybe it wasn’t the right thing to do. The watcher was still with her and every man who crossed her path would be in danger.

  I didn’t care. Right or wrong I wouldn’t let any man harm her if I could help it.

  She let me take her arm as she climbed into the coach and she smiled at me. I longed to kiss her, or to take her in my arms, but that was impossible. It was dangerous enough just to tell her goodbye.

  “Damned pretty woman,” the stationmaster said as the coach took off.

  “Yeah,” I muttered. “She’s both of those things alright.”

  There’s Something in the Woods

  Edward Mckeown

  “I think we need a vacation from each other.”

  “Jeremy, how can you say that? We’ve been together five years.”

  “I know and I feel smothered. We’re always with each other, night and day.”

  They faced each other in his design studio. Jeremy, tall and lanky, stood with his arms crossed, determined not to lose this argument this time. Shadowheart, his guardian angel, floated in midair in her usual guise of a seventeen-year-old, snub-nosed blonde addicted to the latest fashions. He was glad of that at least; her archangel form was that of a winged raven-haired Amazon nearly a foot taller than his six feet.

  “Honestly,” he continued. “I care for you. I really do, but I can’t spend every waking hour with you.”

  “You get into trouble when I am not around.”

  “And I intend to. I plan to head up to the mountains for the fall color. I plan to drink, smoke questionable substances and do a variety of extremely naughty things with as many different women as I can talk into it. In short I am going to try and have fun like a normal twenty-five year old.”

  “You’re not normal; you’re a Knight Templar. Besides aren’t Templars supposed to be chaste?”

  “Perhaps that’s why there are so few of us.”

  “I think it has more to do with legions of slavering evil,” she said, floating inverted with her legs crossed, as she sometimes did when she was trying to make him laugh.

  “Why don’t you do something as well? You must need a break too.”

  She righted herself and stared at himself. “What?”

  “Come on even angels must have some form of recreation.”

  “The life of an angel is beyond your limited understanding.”

  “Smile when you say that. Seriously what do you do when you see other angels?”

  “We get together at the local pub and complain about our feckless and unappreciative wards.”

  Despite himself Jeremy smiled. “Great. With me for a charge, you must be the star of the bar.”

  Shadowheart sighed theatrically. “Very well, you’re human and I never was. There are things about you that I don’t understand and I’m not sure that I wish to. Perhaps some time apart will be helpful. There are some things I have put off doing in the Overworld that I could attend to. Don’t expect me to answer your phone or email.”

  “It’s just for a week. We’ll be back slaying the forces of evil before you know it.”

  Shadowheart yawned and drifted down on a nearby couch. “Okay. Whatever. Hey, what’s your Netflix password?”

  A day later Jeremy stood before the immense stone pile of the Grove Park Inn in Asheville, North Carolina, a cross between a castle and a hunting lodge. He walked into the interior wooden hall, checked in and ditched his bags. Next stop, the veranda, with its beautiful view of the mountains and valley below. The air was brisk, but an attractive waitress brought him a hot, spiced cider. He took a rocker and contemplated the setting sun as the sky flamed with banners of color and clouds of purple and blue with a blissful feeling of solitude. The gold and crystal housing that Shadowheart rode in, when not corporeal, lay on his dresser at home. The angel’s absence was almost palpable. While he’d spoken the truth about liking his supernatural companion, when it came to fun, she was the ultimate buzz kill.

  He switched to a cabernet when another waitress, this time a cute Hispanic girl, came by. Her smile at him hinted of possibilities and Jeremy returned it with his best. She giggled and blushed and Jeremy remembered that while it hadn’t been relevant in a while, he was considered good-looking and American girls loved his European accent. How long had it been since life had been simple for him? Had it ever been?

  He shook off the thought. I’m on vacation. With any luck I’ll meet a nice girl and have some fun, maybe forget what I know crawls the dark places for a while.

  He whiled away some time with a swim. Dinner was on his own and then he spent some time in bar. Unfortunately the men wanted to discuss sports, politics, or, as was not uncommon in the South, religion. The women were either in couples or seemed standoffish. Most people were talking about the disappearance of five local college students in the mountains.

  He enjoyed some off-color jokes with a lesbian lawyer from California who seemed provoked by all the makeup and glitz of the ballroom crowd there for a dance competition. But she was leaving in the morning and declined his offer of hiking around the mountains.

  The end of the evening found him in a melancholy state as he sat by the vast fireplace; his feet propped up facing the fire. Oh well, he thought in drowsy contemplation, here I am again, on my own.

  Samantha, his closest friend, had a new girlfriend. While Jeremy was happy for her, it meant she had little time from him. Sydney, his Australian mate, had moved north for a computer job and to escape the rapidly contracting pond that was Charlotte in the Great Recession.

  What did that leave him for friends? Debbie Middleton, a sexually carnivorous vampiress, who occasionally helped him and Shadowheart. Some of the people he’d helped remained in touch, but many wanted to forget their encounters with the supernatural. Everyone he met was also another chance to blow his cover. The work of the Knights Templar was secret from the rational world.

  Tomorrow he planned a hike in the mountains, then maybe he’d hit some clubs in town.

  Jeremy slept in, then dropped in for a massage at the spa. Hours later he parked his car at a scenic overlook and started up the mountains on a well-marked trail. Compass in hand, he struck off down a side trail. He’d walked for fifteen minutes when a familiar sickly odor hit his nose. Something was dead nearby. He heard the sound of something sizeable moving through the woods.

  “Probably a deer,” he muttered to himself and walked on. The odor grew worse, blood, a lot of it, recently spilled. Remembering there were black bears and the occasional cougar in this country, he reached under the light jacket he wore and pulled out his Walther PPK. He jacked a round into the chamber, wincing at the loudness of the slide. He found himself wishing he’d brought his bloodsword but the Walther PPK felt solid and reassuringly lethal in his hand. He stalked forward, keeping close to the tree trunks in case he had to put one between him and… whatever the hell was out there.

  The wood was alive with natural sound, which he blotted out of his conscious mind, listening for evidence of a large body moving. If there was a hunter here, he was inhumanly patient.

  Jeremy waited for a few more minutes but the sun was westering and the mountains would shut off the light soon. Ti
me to be bold. He moved forward, stepping around leaves and sticks, aiming for rock and dirt, slipping through bushes.

  A clearing opened before him and it held two sights that made him freeze. One was a human body, so mauled he couldn’t even tell the gender. The second was a naked redheaded woman with a flawless, lithe body. She sensed him in the same moment and his eyes locked and met in a shock of recognition.

  Prosperine, the witch-familiar, leapt away, morphing into her original form as a huge black jaguar and fled into the bush. Startled and hesitant, Jeremy didn’t get a shot off but ran forward looking into the bushes where she’d disappeared. But she was gone and the idea of hunting the shape-shifter in the fading light with a handgun was clearly suicidal.

  Why had she fled instead of attacking? He didn’t even know if the pistol would harm her. She’d originally been a jaguar in South America, ensorcelled by an Aztec priest ages ago. She’d become a familiar to one witch after another until he liberated her from the demon, Bob Diablesse. They’d fought side by side against a coven in Charlotte until she’d left for the mountains. They weren’t friends, but he no longer thought of her as an enemy. Until now.

  He turned back to the body, he wondered if it might be one of the missing teens. The upper body was mostly gone. Jeremy wondered how she’d done it. Even in her jaguar shape, gnawing at the body shouldn’t do such damage. He was no forensic scientist but the body was recent, dead only a day or so.

  “Prosperine,” he shouted. “Did you do this? Why? Show yourself.”

  Silence answered him.

  He walked around, stepping where she’d been, up to the area where she’d hit the ground as a jaguar. With her animal skill coupled with human intelligence she’d left few tracks. Jeremy headed back to his car, keeping the pistol in front of him.

  I’ll call the police when I get back to the car, he thought, then lead them to the spot. It was too much to hope that they wouldn’t find some trace of Prosperine but for now he wanted to keep her presence under wraps. She was the obvious suspect, except for a geas that Shadowheart had placed on her a year ago to prevent her feeding on humans. Could the geas had broken or somehow been circumvented? What he did know was that the shape-shifting familiar was too dangerous for the police. If she had returned to her old ways, then it was a job for a Templar.

  Overhead a fine rain began to fall, which suited his purposes. Jeremy sighed as he exited the tree line heading for the Mini. “This is turning into a busman’s holiday.”

  The police showed up quickly and in force, enormous Suburbans with state troopers and Crown Victorias. They were better equipped than some armies. A grim and business-like uniformed Lieutenant named Dietrich was in charge. He looked like he could run a marathon and still kick someone’s ass.

  Jeremy told him his story, though Dietrich’s face betrayed little. “Hiking by yourself?” he finally said.

  “Been trying to find someone to go with,” he shrugged. “I love the woods.”

  Jeremy showed Dietrich the license for the Walther and told him the weapon was in the trunk. Dietrich checked the weapon and held onto it. Then Jeremy Ied them back to the body, making sure to get lost once or twice in the fading light to disguise his woodcraft and let the rain conceal Prosperine’s presence.

  The troopers murmured in alarm at the destroyed body. One young officer got sick. Dietrich posted men around, shooting questions at Jeremy as he did. “You walked all over this ground,” he said after examining the ground. “Why?”

  Jeremy gave him a sheepish look. “I wasn’t sure what I was looking at, if this was a joke or something and, well hell, I don’t do this every day. I guess I was scared, couldn’t stay in one place. I looked around to see if there was somebody that needed help or if there was more of… of whoever that is. Then my brain started working again and I walked back to my car where I’d left my phone and called you.”

  Dietrich gave him a steady look. “You didn’t do bad for a civilian, son. Surprised you didn’t barf here like Rogers.”

  “Too scared to puke,” he said.

  Dietrich gave a wolf-like grin. “Been there.” He looked up at the lowering sky.

  “Jerry,” he called, “send for lights and dogs. Fat chance of getting some scent with this rain but we have to try. Call the forensics guys and get them out here.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You plan to be here for a couple of days?” Dietrich said.

  “All week at the Grove Park.”

  “Fancy,” he said. “Rogers will take your statement. We can do it now back at the car or at the station.”

  “Now’s fine. I wasn’t figuring on getting any sleep tonight.”

  “Yeah, me neither.”

  “So, Lieutenant? What the hell happened? Who was this?”

  “Forensics will have to confirm it but he was one of the missing college kids. As for what got him? Bear maybe. We got wolves out this way but I never heard of them attacking a man. Coyotes might if there were a lot of them. Can’t say I ever saw a body damaged this way.”

  “Will I get my Walther back soon? You’re welcome to Paraffin test it, or even fire a bullet for ballistics.”

  “Know a lot about police procedure?” Dietrich said.

  Whoops, Jeremy thought. “I watch “Bones” on TV.”

  Dietrich snorted. “Our forensics guy ain’t as pretty as her.” He pulled the Walther out, ejected the magazine, then jacked the round out of the barrel, catching it in mid air. “I’m pretty sure yours hasn’t been fired but we’ll run the weapon. Course if I find a 9mm hole in that body your stay at the Grove Park will get shortened. You’ll get it back tomorrow otherwise.”

  “Okay. Good luck.”

  Dietrich nodded and then walked toward the bushes, flashlight in hand, water dripping off his gray-brimmed hat.

  Jeremy sat with Rogers for an hour answering questions and dreading a return by Dietrich, but evidently the lean ranger found nothing in the gathering downpour. Men with lights on poles and others with dogs arrived and trekked into the woods. Reporters also began to appear.

  “Can I get out of here?” Jeremy said. “I like reporters about as much as you cops do.”

  Rogers eyed him with more friendliness. “Sure. We’ll give them your Charlotte address, it should throw them off you for a day or so but I think your vacation is over. This story with the missing kids is all over the media. I think the fall color season is going to fold up.”

  “No sign of the other kids?”

  Rogers closed his laptop. “You better get going if you want to avoid the press.”

  Jeremy nodded and slipped out of the suburban, making it to the Mini unmolested and drove back to the Grove.

  Jeremy surprised himself later by finding an appetite. He avoided the bar this time; the place was abuzz with talk of the body. The reporters had wasted little time.

  “Crap,” he overheard one server say, “first the recession now this. So much for tourists, we’re getting cancellations all over.”

  Jeremy tucked into dinner, his mind running furiously. He’d made Shadowheart promise to stay out of his brain for the entire week. It never occurred to him to wonder how to get hold of her if he changed his mind. She didn’t have a cell phone. Usually he could touch her housing and summon her but it was back in Charlotte. To retreat to Charlotte when he knew so little seemed wrong, an admission that he was helpless without her.

  Jeremy raised a glass of cabernet to his lips. As his head tilted back, he saw a woman in a killer miniskirt. His eyes roved up over her fantastic legs; up the taut body to the green eyes and red—He spit his drink across the table.

  “Hello,” Prosperine said, in her husky dark voice. “Don’t shoot or stab me.”

  The waiter came over looking nervously at both of them. “Was there something wrong with the wine, sir?”

  He coughed. “No, sorry, went down the wrong pipe.”

  “Will the lady be joining you?”

  He looked at her. “I’m hoping yo
u haven’t eaten today.”

  She shrugged. “A squirrel for lunch.”

  The waiter laughed uncertainly. Jeremy gestured at the chair opposite him. Prosperine folded into it. The waiter changed the tablecloth, brought a menu and another glass and poured for both. Prosperine handed the menu back. “Veal steak, no vegetables.”

  After the waiter slipped away, Jeremy stared at Prosperine. Her makeup was perfect, as was her hair. The dress was designer and fit like a second skin. “Well, you haven’t been living in a cave.”

  “Nor eating hikers. I keep a room with a widow who asks no questions. I’d made some provisions moneywise for becoming masterless. Most of the time I am out living a natural existence in the woods—”

  “Hence the yummy squirrel.”

  “—but I keep a foot in the human world as well.”

  She leaned forward. “I didn’t do it. You know I’m not good, but you also know I’m under a geas from your angel, no human snackage. I was out hunting when I smelled blood and something…else. I found the body only a bit before you. I switched to human shape to check the corpse for pockets. Then I saw you with the gun. You’re good in the woods, human. You surprised me. Wasn’t sure you’d give me time to talk. I didn’t think you’d shoot me in the Grove Park.”

  He sipped the wine and forked some pasta. “I believe you. Mostly because of the geas.”

  “Thanks.”

  “So what the hell is going on? You said you smelled something.”

  “Yes. Hard to explain to a human but I felt and smelt a nonhuman presence, something magical. Large, but I found no sign of anything on the ground. In fact I think the body was dropped there.

  “I found this by the corpse.” She placed a piece of turquoise jewelry on the table. It was small and cunningly wrought turtle. A scrap of leather thong ran through its mouth, the yellow gem eyes seemed to regard Jeremy with malice.

  “What is it,” Jeremy said.

  “An object of power,” she said. “A dark power I am unfamiliar with.”

  “I didn’t see you with it.”