Rejected By Heaven: An Urban Fantasy Action Adventure (The Unbelievable Mr. Brownstone Book 2)

by Michael Anderle

  “Why do I think I’m gonna end up having to kill that thing for you?” James mumbled.

  Zoe giggled and sashayed over to the bounty hunter. “I’ll make it worth your while if you do.”

  He frowned, not wanting to go through another round of her attempts to seduce him.

  The witch raised a slender finger and tapped him on the chest. “I can see it in your face, you know.”

  “See what?”

  “The irritation.”

  “It helps when people aren’t trying to piss me off.” James shrugged. “And I’ve never claimed not to be an asshole.”

  Zoe laughed, swaying slightly. “No, you haven’t.” She ran a hand down James’ chest.

  He grabbed her wrist and pushed her hand back. “No, Zoe. I don’t have time for this shit.”

  The witch sighed and stepped away. “I know.” She took a deep breath. “I’m like a bug; you know, attracted to the light. Do you even understand that light in you, James?”

  He stared at her for a second, wondering what the woman was getting at. Alison had made it clear that she saw something special in his soul, but he’d never heard Zoe talk about being able to see souls. Knowing the woman, the whole speech was probably just a new seduction strategy.

  “What the hell are you talking about?” James asked.

  Zoe sighed and shook a finger. “No need to be rude, lover. I can look, but not touch.”

  “But you did just touch.”

  “You have me there.” The humor fled her face. “Like I said, it’s like a bug being attracted to the light, but I realized something important recently and it’s made me a little sad.”

  “You realized you drink too much?”

  Zoe snorted. “No. If anything, I don’t drink enough.” She gestured to the ceiling light fixture. “Let’s just say a bug might see a friend playing with a light and get fried, and then they realize that maybe playing with the light is dangerous and you should avoid it.”

  James nodded slowly.

  The witch looked him up and down. “If only the light wasn’t so damned yummy.” She gestured to her kitchen table, where a rack containing several vials sat on top. Her slender fingers picked out a small vial filled with red liquid. “You know why I want you, James?”

  “Because you’re drunk most of the time?” James replied. “You can’t see the ugliness?”

  “You have character, even if you’re not totally my type.”

  “I’ll probably regret asking, but what’s your type?”

  Zoe chuckled and shook her head. “I don’t like boytoys; those men with perfect hairless bodies and unblemished skin. Give me some handles to hold on to when the bucking gets violent; that’s what makes a night memorable.” She tilted her head as her gaze roamed his body. “You’ve got some of that, especially a face with character, but not all of it. Maybe I just want you so badly because you keep saying no.”

  “Well, if I find someone who matches that description looking for a wild alcoholic woman, I’ll send him your way.”

  The witch shrugged and held out her hand, palm up, with the potion. “You’re lucky I had an extra one of these sitting around, but it won’t be cheap.”

  James pulled out a one-carat diamond out of a pocket in his duster and held it out. “How about this? I figured you could use it in your potions or some shit. Sell it, for all I care.”

  Zoe dropped the potion into his hand and snatched up the diamond. She eyed the gemstone. “There’s a lot of things I could do with this. Some delightful things.”

  “We have a deal then?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “I should get going.” James turned to leave.

  “Before you go, I’ve heard something whispered among those in the magical community you might find of interest.”

  The bounty hunter turned around. “What?”

  “The kemana down south has been reporting sightings of new elves; dark ones.”

  “And?”

  Zoe licked her full lips. “If that doesn’t concern you, don’t worry about it. But you do have a bad habit of pissing people off, and your name comes up more often than you might think.” She sighed. “Just...don’t get killed, James.”

  He offered her a quick nod. “Thanks for the information and the potion.”

  Zoe watched as the F-350 pulled out of her driveway into the street, then closed her front door.

  She shook her head. “James, you’re a clueless idiot, and I’m a dumbass fool.” She lifted the diamond and stared at it. “Well, it’s not exactly a ring, but I’ll keep it, James.” A grin spread across her face. “I’ve got the perfect use for this little gem.”

  25

  “Huh, the new door looks better,” James said as he stepped toward the Black Sun. Nice polished metal with no scratches. Shit, it didn’t even stink of urine.

  He didn’t regret paying for the door now. He also didn’t know if Tyler would be happy to see him, but he suspected the man would be far more concerned about King Pyro coming back and causing trouble. At least James had paid for the damage he’d caused.

  The bounty hunter slipped on leather gloves and threw open the door. Six lowlifes sat around the bar, and only spared him the briefest of glances. Tyler gave him a nod and turned toward a TV in the corner.

  “As you can see,” blared a reporter on the TV, “our news chopper has been following the notorious Jordan Adams, who goes by the name King Pyro. According to a voice mail he left with authorities, this is the beginning of a reign of terror in which he, and I quote, ‘Will burn Los Angeles until only ashes remain.’”

  A motorcycle barreled along hundreds of feet below the helicopter. Every few seconds a fireball blasted from the rider, smashing into a nearby car or building. King Pyro certainly didn’t do subtle.

  The motorcycle jerked to the side, heading southbound on the 110. He pulled off at an exit and disappeared, hidden by the buildings.

  “We’ve received reports that the LAPD AET has been dispatched to the area,” the reporter continued. “Authorities are asking that everyone keep clear of the area. Police want to remind everyone that Adams is a level-four threat.” The reporter tilted his head, looking to the side and listening to his earbud before looking straight into the camera. “We’ve just been informed that a new bounty has been issued on Jordan Adams, and in a rare turn of events, it’s an official dead-or-alive tag. Again, authorities advise all citizens to avoid engaging this man unless you’re a licensed class-four bounty hunter or higher.”

  James narrowed his eyes, wondering why the hell King Pyro was being so obvious. Sure, the guy was tough, but he’d recently received a beat-down that proved he wouldn’t always win. Even ignoring the bounty and the other bounty hunters it might bring, he was asking AET to show up—and that could end in a missile or railgun being used.

  Something didn’t smell right about the whole thing. James pulled his phone out and started searching a map of the area where the news chopper had lost King Pyro.

  You’re not the dumbass I thought you were, Adams. I’ll give you that. But you were dumb enough not to leave town when you had the chance.

  “Like the new door, Tyler,” James called, and turned to leave.

  The other man raised his middle finger. “Fuck you, Brownstone.”

  James barreled down the road in his F-350, blaring his horn and cutting off other drivers. He hit the 110 and headed north. He’d convinced himself that King Pyro was trying to get the entire LAPD going in the wrong direction. For all the man’s pretentions and arrogance, in the end he specialized in a very old-fashioned crime: bank robbery.

  If AET were busy searching an area miles away from the man, Pyro could rush into a bank, grab what he needed, and escape before the cops even knew what was going on. There was a bank just off the 110 a few miles up the road from the criminal’s last known location.

  It was a halfway-decent plan.

  James made a twenty-minute trip in ten with his aggressive driving. With all the traffic
drones flying around the city he was sure a large ticket was already on its way, but at least no cops stopped him. His truck roared off the exit toward the bank. He squealed to a stop in the parking lot, not even bothering to park.

  After a quick check of his weapons, he threw open the door and rushed toward the bank.

  Shit. I better be careful about this. Don’t want anyone to think I’m robbing the bank.

  James kept his pistol holstered as he opened the glass door leading into the bank lobby and stepped inside.

  Light instrumental K-Pop played over the speakers. Two long lines of bored-looking customers waited to talk to the tellers. A single security guard with a revolver sat in a chair, eyeing James with suspicion.

  The bounty hunter tore his gaze away from the security guard to look around the bank, but he didn’t spot King Pyro.

  “Shit,” he muttered. “Was I wrong?”

  James stepped farther into the bank, past the lines toward several desks in the back. The security guard rose, his hand on the grip of his revolver.

  Not your time to shine, idiot. Just sit down.

  “Excuse me, sir,” the security guard said. “You’ll need to wait in line.”

  James ignored him. Annoyance shot through the bounty hunter. He’d thought he’d figured everything out, but King Pyro obviously wasn’t there. Somehow the other man had outsmarted him after all.

  “Damn it,” the bounty hunter muttered. He needed to get back on the road and figure out where King Pyro was really going.

  The security guard cleared his throat. “Sir, do you even have busi—”

  The front door exploded in a shower of glass and flame.

  Screams filled the lobby, and the customers fled to either side of the bank. The security guard ducked behind a desk, and James pivoted behind one of four cement pillars rising to the ceiling.

  “Guess you’re not smarter than me after all,” James muttered. “It ends this time, asshole.”

  He reached under his shirt and yanked the metal square off the back of the amulet. The cool touch of the metal and crystals against his skin was replaced by an inferno of discomfort, and tendrils of pain shot from the point of contact through the rest of his body until every part of him was in agony.

  James gritted his teeth as the necklace sank into his skin.

  In the back of his mind, a low and hollow voice whispered in a strange language he couldn’t begin to understand. He hadn’t heard anything like it...yet.

  Guess you can’t tell me to kill everyone I love if I can’t even fucking understand you, Mr. Cursed Amulet.

  Several long seconds passed before the pain began to ebb. James took several deep breaths, his limbs feeling slightly heavier. The whispers continued in the back of his mind, along with the faintest of hums. The Granite Ghost had awoken.

  Cloaked in flame, King Pyro strolled into the lobby, sneering at the cowering people against the walls. “Tell me where the vault is in the next thirty seconds or you’ll all burn.”

  The security guard popped up and squeezed off a round. The robber jerked from the hit, but didn’t fall. He turned, narrowing his eyes on the guard.

  “You would kill your king?” Pyro growled. “You’re nothing to me, and now you die.”

  Five more shots followed. The king didn’t go down, but James could see several bullet wounds through the flames surrounding his body.

  So you’re not bulletproof, asshole. Guess what, right now I am.

  “Run!” James shouted to the guard. “You can’t beat him.”

  King Pyro raised both hands and shot a column of flame from them that consumed the guard. His agonized screams filled the air for several seconds as the flames charred him. The bullet wounds closed on his killer.

  “What the fuck?” James exclaimed, stepping away from the pillar.

  “Brownstone,” King Pyro shouted, and pointed at him. He cackled. “This is fucking perfect. This is fucking DESTINY!”

  “Why aren’t you in a hospital somewhere with a broken jaw?”

  He pointed to the charred black ruin that used to be a security guard. “I have to thank you. You pushed me to my limits, and now I truly am a god. I can take the life from others to make me stronger.”

  James groaned and shook his head. “Last guy who said that to me ended up dead.”

  King Pyro’s face contorted in rage. “You’re fucking dead, Brownstone.” The flames surrounding his body flared into a white-blue flame. “I will melt you where you stand.” Two fireballs burst from his hands.

  The bounty hunter rolled to the side and opened up with the .45, but the bullets melted before reaching the other man’s body.

  “Okay, that’s a problem,” James muttered. “Now he is bulletproof.”

  King Pyro laughed. “I am beyond pathetic bitches like you, Brownstone. I am a GOD!”

  The bounty hunter sent a throwing knife sailing toward his enemy. He hoped it’d have enough metal to get through, but the flames consumed the knife just as eagerly as they had the bullets.

  James shoved his hands out, grabbing two monitors with his now-strengthened telekinesis and tossing them at the other man. Pyro batted them out of the air, and the smell of burnt plastic filled the bank.

  “Run, you idiots,” the bounty hunter yelled to the cowering crowd. “Get the fuck out of here while I’ve got him distracted.” He punctuated the sentence by emptying his magazine into Pyro, to no better effect than the first time.

  King Pyro stalked forward, ignoring the scurrying people. He raised a hand, and an orb of white-hot flame grew in his palm. “If you get on your knees and beg your king to forgive you, I’ll kill you quickly,” he snarled. “Otherwise I’ll make you suffer until you beg me to die, bitch.”

  He tossed the ball toward James, and the bounty hunter leapt out of the way. The desk behind him exploded, shooting out burning wood fragments and red-hot metal.

  James holstered his empty .45. With the crowd now gone, he could go to Plan B. He yanked out a frag grenade and pulled the pin. “Suck on this, asshole.”

  King Pyro grunted as the force of the explosion knocked him back. The bounty hunter followed up by yanking another gun out and tossing lead toward the center of the flaming mass, but the bullets couldn’t penetrate the flame shield.

  The other man pushed himself off the ground. He had no wounds on his face; the shrapnel from the grenade hadn’t even managed to scratch him.

  “What level do you think I am now, you little bitch?” King Pyro shouted. “Five? Six? Maybe I’ll be the first level-seven. For I am the king, and I rule over all you fuckers!”

  “This is America, asshole. We don’t do kings.” As James sprinted for the column, a bolt of flame struck him in the shoulder and another on the thigh. The smell of his burning flesh greeted his nose and he gritted his teeth, pain spiking through his body.

  “Fuck,” he muttered. He’d hoped that the necklace would block the attack, but the agony in his shoulder suggested it’d only stopped the worst of it.

  The whispers grew louder in his head, more frantic, but were still unintelligible. He needed to get close to King Pyro where his strength would be an advantage. He yanked out a knife and readied it.

  “Do you smell it, Brownstone?” Pyro chuckled. “I smell your fear.”

  James spun and charged at Pyro, who threw two quick fireballs that blasted right through his coat and burned his chest. He slammed his knife into Pyro’s shoulder. The metal melted seconds later, but the force of the blow sent the other man sailing back howling in pain.

  The bounty hunter tossed his burning duster to the ground and followed up with his two remaining grenades. They exploded in rapid succession, stunning King Pyro for a second but not killing him.

  James glanced down at his chest and narrowed his eyes. Unlike his still painful shoulder and leg, his chest was only reddened and there was very little pain. Either the king’s attacks were growing weaker, or his skin was growing stronger.

  As if answering him, th
e whisper in his head became more insistent.

  “Let’s finish this, you piece of shit,” James shouted, yanking off his burned tactical harness and dropping it to the ground. The guns and knives wouldn’t do shit for him, so there was no point in risking one of them blowing up or melting right next to him.

  King Pyro put his hands close together and a fireball grew in front of him.

  “Now, Brownstone, you die.”

  26

  James threw himself to the side. The massive fireball roared past him, its intense heat exacerbating the existing burns on his exposed body.

  He had never thought of what it’d be like to be a stripper, but at this point only a few scraps of shirt remained, and his pants and boots had huge holes. Hell, even his underwear wasn’t in the best shape.

  In another situation the bounty hunter might have laughed about all that, but right now rage, pain, and deep breaths kept his mind focused on defeating his enemy.

  His entire body ached, and he had wounds and burns all over. The amulet necklace had saved his life and protected him from the worst of his enemy’s attacks, but it hadn’t completely saved him from harm.

  It didn’t fucking matter. There was no way he was letting King Pyro get away again while he was still breathing.

  No one I love will ever again get hurt, if I have anything to say about it. That fucker is going down.

  James charged and slammed his fist at full strength into King Pyro’s chest. The other man flew backward, smashing through a front window and crashing into the street. The bounty hunter stepped through the shattered glass, glaring at the fallen criminal with murder is his eyes.

  “You’re done, you sonofabitch,” he rumbled in his deep voice.

  There were dozens of cops, crouched behind their vehicles with rifles, shotguns, and pistols at the ready. Armed drones circled overhead, and at least twelve AET members in full armor were in position behind collapsible tactical shields.