She Is The Widow Maker_An Urban Fantasy Action Adventure

by Michael Anderle

  The Drow furrowed her brow, confusion adding to her annoyance. What an annoying human. She would enjoy harvesting him later.

  “Very well, Mr. Smite-Williams.”

  He grinned. “Doctor Smite-Williams, actually.”

  Widowmaker let out a quiet chuckle, but the back of her neck tingled. Was the human taunting her on purpose?

  His punishment can wait. I need to get him to tell me where Brownstone is.

  “I’m sorry, Doctor,” the Drow replied quietly. “I was just looking for James Brownstone. I need his help, and I was told you could point me in his direction.”

  “Poor thing. You just missed him, madam. Would you be interested in a drink with me instead?”

  The Drow shook her head. “No, I really need to find Mr. Brownstone. It’s important. Very important.”

  Smite-Williams sighed. “It always is with him.” He chuckled. “Well, you’re a lot nicer on the eyes than the last pair looking for him.”

  “He needs to hear what I’m going to tell him as soon as possible. I…need to tell him in person. I can’t risk a message.”

  The human gave her a toothy grin. “’Need’ is such an odd concept. We use that word all the time and it implies so much, but what does it really mean? You see… What was your name again?”

  “Angie.”

  “But of course it is.” Amusement shone on the man’s face. “Well, Angie, I think James is busy for the next few days. Maybe you could stop off in a week or so and ask around for him. Tomorrow, he could be back here, or he could be in Mexico for all I know. Or Japan. He took a trip there recently. Ate a lot of meat, killed a psychic monster. Standard tourist stuff.”

  Widowmaker let out a pained laugh. “Oh, come on, Doctor. You strike me as a man who knows what’s going on around LA and with James Brownstone.”

  “I know what’s going on if it involves beer, aye. Otherwise, I’m just simple academic.” Smite-Williams shrugged. “Sorry, Angie.”

  “Maybe…we could work a deal of some sort.” She beamed a smile at him.

  Smite-Williams leaned forward, an eager gleam in his eyes. “I like deals. What did you have in mind?”

  Widowmaker smirked. She had him now.

  “Maybe an exchange of…fluids.”

  “An exchange of fluids?” He grinned. “I definitely like the sound of that.”

  “Yes, so do I.” Widowmaker licked her lips.

  “Can I pick the fluids?”

  “Oh, most definitely, Doctor. I’ll also let you pick the place for the exchange.”

  The human’s gaze roamed her body for a moment and the Drow stopped the triumphant laugh that wanted to escape. This man had fallen prey to her charms with so little effort. It was almost disappointing.

  Smite-Williams’ gaze bore into her now, the intensity almost unnerving. “Do you swear, Angie, that I can pick the fluids and the place?”

  “Oh, yes.” She put a hand on her chest and gave him a seductive smile.

  The human slammed his hand on the table and grinned, all the intensity gone from his face. “Fine, then. Let’s play a nice little game. You’re going to pay for the next two drinks, and I’m going to tell the waitress to tell the bartender to surprise us. I reserve the right to exchange my drink with you here at this table if I don’t like the first one.”

  “I…” Widowmaker smirked. Nothing about what he said violated their agreement. “Okay, but what do I get out of this little deal?”

  “Maybe a good drink, but I already gave you something.”

  “What?”

  “Now you know James stops around this place, which is what I think you wanted to know to begin with.” He lifted his hand to flag down a waitress. “Now, let’s drink, Angie. Maybe I’ll get drunk enough that Father O’Banion can come out, and you can make a deal with him, too. Just let me warn you, he’s far quicker than Professor Smite-Williams.”

  Widowmaker offered him a thin smile. Smite-Williams had beat her. She’d have her drink and leave, even if she longed to choke him with a shadow tentacle.

  The man was right about one thing. She now had at least one location to find Brownstone.

  Soon I will find others.

  14

  James was just about to roll away from his warehouse when he received a text from the Professor.

  He drove his F-350 back to the pub and stepped inside, hurrying toward the back and not even caring he was in one of his now standard-issue shabby gray coats and armed to the teeth. Anyone who was a regular at the pub knew better than to fuck with him whether or not he was loaded for the job.

  The Professor patted a suitcase with a DNA lock. “I thought of something that might be helpful.” He pushed the briefcase toward James. “This won’t make things simpler, but it does up the chances of that artifact getting to me in one piece and without taking any cities with it.”

  James grunted. “Yeah, I like things simple, but it’s been a long time since that’s been the case so I’ll fucking deal.” His gaze flicked to the case. “So what’s inside?”

  “Two artifacts I’ve borrowed from an old friend. I got lucky and they were available on short notice.” The Professor tapped the briefcase. “Check your email. I figured it’d be efficient to have the instructions in there for you. I’ve set some other things up in Seattle that’ll also be handy, assuming you do what I think you’ll do with these artifacts.”

  James pulled out his phone and scanned the email. “Huh. These could be handy.” The bounty hunter grinned. “I think I’ve got a halfway-decent plan now; a lot better than just, ‘Kill everyone who runs into me.’”

  “I knew you would say that.” The Professor gave him a little salute. “And you do what you need to do to guarantee that object’s safety.”

  James furrowed his brow. “If you have these anyway, do you really need me to do it?”

  “Aye. Even in the best scenario this still ends with a lot of people attacking someone, and I know few people better at returning violence than you.”

  James snorted. “That’s one way to put it.”

  “The truth is, I’ve asked for your assistance because there’s no one else I trust to handle this situation. You’ve proven yourself more than a few times, and I know you care about more than just money and bounties no matter what you try to claim at times.”

  “Fuck.” James grabbed the suitcase and stood. “Well, I’ve got a two-day drive ahead of me, so I should get going. I want to get this shit over with before Shay gets back.”

  “One last thing before you go, lad. It’s probably not important, but I figured it’d be best to mention it to you.”

  “What? Some Harriken dudes who were hiding out on Oriceran have reappeared to swear vengeance on me or some shit?”

  The Professor chuckled and shook his head. “Nothing like that…I think, at least. Have you pissed off any beautiful women lately? Ones who look like a young Angelina Jolie?”

  James imagined the actress in his mind and shrugged. “Not that I know of, but maybe they were the girlfriend of some asshole I killed or brought in. It’s not like I interview every asshole I take down.”

  “A lover? That’s a strong possibility. Anyway, such a woman was looking for you, and I don’t think it was to give you a kiss. Be aware of that for when you come back.”

  “Whatever. I’ll deal with that shit when I get back. One problem at a time.”

  “That’s one way to keep life simpler.”

  James stifled a yawn as he knocked on the townhouse door and looked up into the camera above the door.

  “You know why I’m here. I’ve driven two days. Let’s hurry this shit up before someone gets stupid ideas and drops a bomb on you.”

  The door clicked open and an exhausted-looking middle-aged man in glasses nodded for James to enter.

  “You Henry?” James stepped inside. The lack of furniture other than a small folding table and a metal chair suggested a hastily-arranged safehouse.

  “Yeah.” Henry closed the door.
“Thanks for agreeing to do this. This shit’s going to be a little too ‘Mad Max’ for me to handle. But you’re James Brownstone, so you know all about how to handle crazy thugs trying to murder you on the road. You’re a damned expert at it.”

  James shrugged. “I live a colorful life. Not gonna deny that.”

  The tomb raider gestured to a briefcase on an end table. “It’s in there. A lot of people are going to be coming after you for that.” He sucked in a breath. “I should have never agreed to recover it, but the money was too good. My ex-wife always said greed was going to get me killed.”

  “Life’s a bitch, then you die. Don’t worry. It’s not gonna be your problem anymore.” James picked up the briefcase. “I figure there’s not a lot of point to sitting around chatting about this shit unless you have something to tell me that the Professor didn’t.”

  Henry locked eyes with James. “This might be too much, even for you. Some serious people want this. Understand that.”

  “You don’t know me that well, but there’s no one more fucking serious than me. Just ask the Harriken or Jacob Leesom.” James smirked. “But, hey, you might be right. You want to keep it? I’ll just hit some barbeque places and head back. Enjoy your city-destroying Atlantean artifact.”

  Henry shook his head and waved his hands in front of him. “No, just saying you should be careful. And whatever you do, do not fly with that thing. You’ll take a lot of people with you if you do.”

  “Yeah, the Professor made that pretty fucking clear. As for being careful…” James shrugged. “It’s the other guys who should be careful. I haven’t had a decent workout in a while. This might be fun.”

  An hour later James pulled into the parking lot of an Ivar’s. He wasn’t there to buy fish. It wasn’t that he never ate fish, but he preferred his food to be sourced from four legs and the land. Or at a minimum, two legs and mostly the land.

  Somehow that struck him as more natural. Animals that lived on land should eat animals that lived on land, and animals that lived in the sea should eat animals that lived in the sea. He remained undecided on the true nature of birds, especially chicken with Alabama white sauce slathered over it.

  Not like most birds live off eating other birds. I think they count as land animals.

  A black Porsche pulled up beside his truck and a beautiful young Asian woman in a body-hugging sheath dress and sunglasses stepped out of it. Her bright green-dyed hair contrasted with the color of her car.

  She sauntered to his window. A huge orange purse hung over her shoulder, and James wondered if she had a gun or three in there. Probably a few grenades. He could see the advantage of a purse in situations where you needed to hide a lot of weapons—not that he was going to start carrying one.

  The woman lowered her sunglasses. One eye was blue, the other green. That matched the description of James’ contact, according to the Professor’s email, but that still left the passphrase—words that brought bile into James’ throat.

  Fucking Professor. Sometimes I want to smash that smug fucking smile off your face.

  “You’re Addie?” the bounty hunter rumbled.

  “We’re not having a conversation until you say what I’m expecting to hear.” The woman covered her eyes again with her sunglasses. “So say what you need to say, big boy.”

  James grunted. “Seriously, I have to say that shit? It’s not like there are a lot of other people who look like me. You know who I fucking am.”

  The woman snorted. “Yeah, because in a world filled with magic it’s completely impossible that anyone could fake their appearance. The possibility boggles my tiny brain.” She crossed her arms. “Verification. That’s the way I work. You’ve got ten seconds, then I walk. You try anything funny and neither of us will like the results.”

  The bounty hunter stared at the woman, his face tight. Her hand lingered near the top of her purse.

  James had no doubts that any sudden movements would result in a gun battle.

  “Eight seconds,” she said. “Seven seconds. Six seconds.”

  Fuck you, Smite-Williams. Fuck you with a rusty nail for making me do this.

  James took a deep breath and opened his mouth.

  “There was an old man from Detroit

  Whose dick was remarkably short.

  When he got into bed

  His old woman said,

  This isn't a prick, it's a wart."

  James facepalmed. “Fucking Professor. I hate you.”

  The passphrase limerick was part of the Professor’s twisted idea for training James for the Bard of Filth competition. It was also proof that there was no way the bounty hunter was escaping that looming disaster.

  “Verified.” Addie smirked and pulled a square metallic plate from her purse. “Need DNA confirmation as well.”

  “If you were gonna do that, why did I need to do the fucking limerick?”

  The woman shrugged. “Multi-factor authentication. I know you’re used to punching people who annoy you through walls and blowing up their buildings, but us non-Scourge of Harriken types need to be more careful. Now, give me your finger or I walk.”

  James pressed a finger to the DNA scanner and waited for the familiar burning sensation.

  The woman’s phone chimed in her purse. “Verified. Thanks, Mr. Brownstone. Yeah, I’m Addie Endo. I’ve already received my payment from my primary client, so I can help you per the instructions I’ve already received and agreed to, but if you want to change the plan he’ll need to contact me. Not you. That’s the way I work. If you don’t like it, you can walk.”

  “Not a problem. The plan’s fine as is.”

  “You sure about this? Even with my help, you’re still going to have a lot of heat on your ass for the next couple of days.”

  “And how is that different from any other week for me? At least my house didn’t get blown up.”

  Addie laughed. “I like you, Mr. Brownstone.” She rubbed her hands together, her eyes filled with eagerness. “Let’s do this thing!”

  James emerged from the AM/PM with beef jerky in a bag. Now that the retrieval plan was fully in motion, he was going to drive to LA over a two-day period. He wondered if he should be walking around with the briefcase handcuffed to his wrist or something.

  He’d considered doing a straight one-day drive, but being exhausted while trying to fend off potential attacks seemed like a bad idea. Not only that, but unlike when he was fleeing the Harriken, he couldn’t rely on many of the roads being cleared. He might have to worry about traffic.

  James had already taken the time to look up some of the best barbeque places along his route and sampled more than a few on the way up, but he planned to sleep in a rest stop, parked away from anyone else. A hotel or motel presented too many opportunities for a rocket launcher to inflict collateral damage.

  It wasn’t a bad deal, overall. It’d be a fun little road trip, just with a lot more explosions and bullets.

  Two smoking men pushed away from the wall and dropped their cigarettes to the ground.

  Fucking assholes. There’s an ashtray on the garbage can just ten feet away.

  James slowed his pace. The men’s stances lacked the looseness he’d expect of two buddies finishing cigarettes. Tension creased their necks and faces.

  The men strode toward James with hostility in their eyes. Their hands dropped to their pants pockets, but he didn’t see a gun bulge.

  James switched the bag to his left hand and the men pulled out switchblades, which extended with a click.

  “Where is it?” one of the men asked. “Just give it to us, asshole, and you don’t get hurt.”

  “You’re fucking kidding me, right?” James snorted. “This shit is almost insulting.”

  The men glared at him and their nostrils flared.

  “I don’t give two shits that you’re pissed.” James shook his head. “Let me guess: you’re some sort of idiot subcontractors. Some asshole’s giving you what you think is a big payday, like, I don’t know, a
thousand dollars or some shit. Here’s the problem—I also guarantee you that fucker is probably watching and is just using you to feel me out because you’re disposable.”

  The men’s faces tightened. “You’re gonna get hurt, freak.”

  “Nah. Don’t do it, assholes. You’re the ones who are gonna get hurt. It’s almost not worth my time to beat your asses down.”

  “Fuck you.” The man nodded toward his partner. “Just finish his ass and we’ll take his keys. Got to hurry before any cops show up.”

  Fuck it. I gave them their chance.

  James took a plodding step forward, then another. The second man charged. Without dropping his bag of beef jerky, the bounty hunter slammed his free fist into the attacker’s face.

  Blood sprayed from his nose and he smashed against the hard brick wall of the building before falling to the ground, unconscious.

  The other man stabbed at James, but the bounty hunter dodged and grabbed his wrist. He bent it back until the bones snapped, and the man screamed. Another wall toss finished off his assailant.

  “Pathetic,” James rumbled. He wiped his bloodied knuckles off on the bag and continued toward his truck.

  None of these fuckers better jump me at a barbeque place. If they do, I will fucking end them.

  15

  James pushed into the little hole-in-the-wall barbeque place. There were only six tables in the room, and the decor focused more on plastic tablecloths than elegant atmosphere. Photos of happy customers lined the wall, along with a few framed awards from local and regional barbeque competitions.

  The short old woman sitting behind the front counter smiled. “Welcome to The Fire Pit. Take a seat wherever you want.”

  James nodded politely and headed toward a table in the back corner. He wanted to be able to see outside in case someone decided to ambush him.

  A picture caught his eye. He leaned in to inspect it. A smiling Elf woman stood next to the old woman from the counter, making a V sign with her hand.

  “Hey, isn’t this Nadina?”