Chaos Unbound (The Metis Files Book 2)

by Brian S. Leon

  “Thank you, Lady Belphoebe,” I said, trying to make sense of everything she’d said—including the backhanded comments. “I have risked my life to pursue and subdue him, and now I humbly present him to Your Grace as an apology to you and the Court for my requiring your attention, even coincidentally, to this matter. It is a small but heartfelt gesture to assuage your magnanimous nature.”

  I was really pushing it. Hell, I’d been harsher to that windbag Agamemnon, but with that, I bowed again and maintained it. I wasn’t proud of the sycophantic bullshit I spouted, but it was appropriate under the circumstances. Next to me, Belphoebe snorted. Someone really needs to spit in her soup. My leg began to hurt and throb as I held the bow, but finally Nicnevin acknowledged me, and I struggled to right myself, trying not to wince.

  “Son of Tydeus, Avatar of Lady Andunail, your gesture is deemed sufficient, and your apology is accepted.” She got up, glanced down at the Hanner Brid, then at Belphoebe, and unceremoniously walked out, disappearing through an opening that appeared in the cavern wall and closed as quickly.

  I stood there, relieved, surprised, and more than a little confused. I had no clue what I should do. Belphoebe promptly kicked the Hanner Brid’s prone form and crouched down over him. Her face went from placid to predatory. She pulled a highly polished black-bladed knife from her boot and held it along the tied-up criminal’s swollen face under his right eye.

  “I owe you…” She growled in a manner so low, it sounded like the purr of a cat but without the contentment.

  “Ah… Pheebs, should I be leaving now?” I asked in a hoarse whisper.

  To be honest, I had a few things I wouldn’t mind doing to the prick, either, but I got an uneasy feeling I really didn’t want to know what Belphoebe and the Unseelie Court had in store for him. Given his apparent ability to heal and his inherent toughness, I foresaw years and years of torture ahead, and the notion made me shudder. Me, they probably would have just killed. Personally, I believed the guy deserved a fate far worse than death, and if that made me a bad person, so be it.

  Luckily, before I had to watch Pheebs get to work, the gray fairy approached and led me off. As I left, the Dreaich filed out of the room, as well, leaving through openings on either side of the stage. The wall opened before me, and I gladly passed through, happy to be unescorted for once. Before the wall closed up behind me, I heard harsh, wet laughter coming from the Hanner Brid.

  Chapter 41

  I finally made it back to San Diego several months after my rendition of The Fugitive. It was days before Christmas, and I was sore, tired, and ready to lock myself in my house for a week. I didn’t even care about my boat, mostly because I knew Ned would never allow anything to happen to it in my absence.

  I walked from the terminus I always used through the Telluric Ways outside San Diego and meandered to the parking lot of the casino where I would normally leave my truck. Gazing across the parking lot full of cars, I remembered mine wouldn’t be among them. So close, yet so far.

  I would have to call the Metis Foundation to have them send a car for me, but it would be at least another hour of waiting after I made the damn call. Frankly, I wasn’t in the mood to head into the casino to find a phone, either, so I stumbled to the first bench I found and plopped down. I kept my swords and remaining guns wrapped in Dvalinn’s cloak. I planned to walk inside to make my call as soon as my head, my arm, or my leg stopped throbbing.

  While I rested, a long, sleek black Mercedes Benz limousine pulled up and stopped, and a massive figure dressed in a long black coat and a chauffeur’s hat got out and walked around to the passenger side of the rear compartment. I was so tired that at first, I didn’t pay attention to the fact the limo had pulled right in front of me. The driver’s insistent stare finally caught my attention, and I realized it was one of Athena’s Spartoi. He opened the passenger door, and I blinked a few times then pushed to my feet. I ambled to the car, nearly too weary to climb into the back of a limo—even such a nice one—and mostly fell inside. The door closed behind me with a quiet and solid thump. In my weariness, I struggled to pull myself upright in the ridiculously soft leather seats until I felt Athena’s presence. Then I gave up.

  “Thanks for the ride home,” I said, lying back in the seat.

  “Of course,” Athena replied from the seat across from me, “but we should talk before you rest.”

  “You talk; I’ll listen. If I fall asleep, kick me…”

  “You should know that North Korea has admitted to the world that Kim Jong-Il died of a heart attack while onboard his train. They make no mention of an assault against him of any kind, and while they have made a few covert inquiries into what really happened, they are content to leave it as such for the sake of their people. The new leader, Kim’s son, Kim Jong-Un, will likely be worse than his father, though we can scarcely do anything about that.”

  I breathed a heavy sigh and chose to say nothing. A half victory was sometimes worse than a failure.

  “Of course, we may never know what, if anything, transpired in Syria,” she said, continuing to ruin my moment of Zen. “The situation within the entire Middle East remains highly unstable while Syria teeters on the brink of civil war because of Assad’s increasingly irrational actions toward his people. Even his wife is acting outside of her norm. To date, all efforts by various governments and organizations, including the Metis Foundation, have been unsuccessful at defusing tensions. Civil war is all but inevitable. Either way, it is now a human conflict and outside of our realm to interfere.” What she meant was her but, mostly, me. “The Metis Foundation will continue its efforts, of course.”

  “Party pooper,” I replied, closing my eyes. “Oh, by the way, the Hanner Brid was working for Medea. Said he was trying to fulfill his contract for her, but it sounded like he had a personal grudge against the world, too. Probably wasn’t hugged enough as a kid or something.”

  “That revelation makes more sense now,” she said.

  I didn’t have a clue what she meant by that, nor did I care at the moment.

  She had absolutely no information on what the Unseelie Court did with the Demon Fae. However, with the help of Artemis and Deeta’s private collection of papers on various demons and fallen creatures, she did find a name for him: Nasi Ba’Urcalegon. Frankly, I liked Hanner Brid better. After that tidbit, Athena mercifully let me rest.

  During the remainder of the drive back, all I could think about was climbing into bed for at least two days and the pleasure I would take in strangling anyone who dared disturb me. At one point, however, Sarah came to mind, and I found myself momentarily renewed by the conversation we’d had in Miami. I even found myself a little excited—and suddenly nervous as hell—as we arrived at my house on Point Loma.

  I was lost in anticipation though a little queasy when I pulled myself from the comfy seat in the back of the limo, but before I could run into the house to get to the phone to call Sarah, Athena stepped between me and my front door, holding a brown file folder. Her normally intense blue eyes were a flat steely gray, and she pursed her lips and tilted her head as she watched me lumber along.

  “In light of what you told me about this being’s motives, you need to see this, and then we should talk. Get that wrist checked out and then get some rest, Diomedes. You really look like hell.”

  “Thanks, boss.” I snatched the folder from her, unconcerned about what was in it. “Oh, and get this back to Dvalinn before New Year’s Day. I’m busy.” I dumped my weapons on my stoop then tossed the heavy garment to her.

  Excitedly, I riffled through my keys a little more clumsily than normal to open the door, grabbed my swords, knives, and gun off the ground, and kicked open the door. Once inside, I shut the door with my hip, dropped my weapons, threw the folder on my counter, then grabbed the phone. I fumbled with the buttons because of my bad wrist and even hung up twice due to nerves before I
finally finished dialing on my third try. I felt like a damned kid. I found myself both disappointed and somewhat relieved when she didn’t answer. More disappointed, which actually made me smile at the realization.

  Oddly, the fact I was as nervous as a schoolboy on a first date and excited about seeing Sarah again and prospects yet to come made me feel decidedly human for the first time in weeks. Not just human among nonhuman creatures, but human with simple, trivial, and fantastic human problems like dating.

  I put the phone down and went back to the folder. It was thin, and when I opened it, there was nothing but a ripped and charred piece of paper with a list of names and countries on it. I got a wicked sense of déjà vu, leading to a sense of dread when I got to the bottom of the page: circled in blood was “rcalegon.” I’ll be damned. Athena had said his name was Nasi Ba’Urcalegon.

  I’d recovered this list from Medea’s chambers almost a year ago. On it was Assad of Syria, Mubarak of Egypt, Gaddafi of Libya, and Kim of North Korea. If only I’d known a year ago what the list meant.

  A knock at the door accompanied by a familiar jovial voice jarred me. “You in there, boy?” Ned called out, followed by a barrage of dings from the doorbell. “I heard you’re back, finally. Open up, I brought beer…”

  I opened the door, and Ned greeted me with a big grin and a six-pack in both hands. The revelation from the contents of the folder still had me preoccupied, but seeing Ned’s beaming grin and hideous pink-and-chartreuse shirt made me smile in return.

  “Why the hell do I care if you brought beer?” I replied.

  “You don’t, but they’re getting warm, and I want them cold. I didn’t want to stand around out here all day. Besides, you got a package, too.”

  On my stoop at his feet was an unmarked brown box maybe ten inches cubed, secured with twine. Completely puzzled, I picked it up and invited Ned in. He promptly made a beeline for the fridge. I limped along behind him into the kitchen, set the box on the counter, and pulled a knife from one of the drawers. I cut the twine and found a smaller wooden box of exquisite craftsmanship inside. It was intricately carved with a fluid, winding design inlaid using a lighter-colored wood. I stared at Ned, even more confused. He swigged his beer, raised his eyebrows, and shrugged.

  “Maybe walnut with mahogany inlays…” Ned said as I lifted it out and set it on the counter. “No sender on the box?”

  “Nothing on the box at all.”

  “Well, open it. Maybe it’s a thank-you gift from Mab!” Ned said sarcastically then burst into a fit of snorting laughter, dribbling beer down his bushy beard.

  I lifted the fitted top off the wooden box, and a heavy metallic odor mixed with the scent of decay and rotting meat hit both of us like a fist. I covered my nose and mouth with my hand, but my eyes still watered at the putrid smell. Inside, something about the size of a baseball was wrapped in a piece of black cloth and bound by a black silk ribbon. When I picked it up, the smell became stronger, causing me to gag a bit as I placed it into the sink.

  “Ugh. How long has this thing been sitting around?” I asked, not really expecting an answer.

  “Wasn’t there yesterday, I swear,” Ned replied, grabbing the dishtowel from the front of the stove to cover his face.

  “Wasn’t there twenty minutes ago, either.”

  I put the package into the sink and cut the ribbon. A ghastly black-brown sludge poured out and down the drain. Once unwrapped, a gelatinous brown ball flopped out into the sink, oozing more sludge from a gash. All at once, I recognized what it was—a heart. Given its size, it could easily have been human, but given its state of decomposition, I couldn’t tell for sure. My mind flashed instantly to Sarah. Right as I was about to panic, the phone rang, but I didn’t answer it. I couldn’t move. Finally, the ringing stopped, and the answering machine kicked in. Sarah’s voice began leaving a message, snapping me back to reality, and I ran to pick up the phone, elated I was wrong.

  “Sarah!” I said, mostly screaming into the phone, “I’m here. I’m here—”

  “Oh, good. I was going to leave you a message. I’m on a call out, but I wanted to let you know I got your message, and I’m glad you’re okay.”

  “Yeah, all good. Mostly, anyway,” I said, staring back at Ned, who was standing over the sink. Then without thinking, I spoke. “Listen, why don’t we meet up this weekend, maybe have dinner and talk?” I said, instantly horrified she might say no. I’ve risked my neck for too long not to take chances like this one.

  “Sure, that would be great.”

  I could feel myself smile. “Okay… I’ll call you later, and we can work out the details,” I said, forgetting briefly about the nasty package on my counter.

  “Looking forward to it.”

  We both hung up.

  “You’re making a date?” Ned asked, his eyes crinkled from a smile he hid under the dishtowel. “You got more important things to deal with right now. Sheesh. The smell is even makin’ my beer taste bad, dude.”

  Leave it to Ned to boil any situation down to its most basic element.

  “It’s a heart,” he said as I walked back into the kitchen and stared into the sink. He was poking at it with the knife. “Something else inside it, too.”

  I grabbed the knife from him and began prodding at the greasy hunk of meat. Something shiny and gold protruded from one of the severed vessels. I pulled another knife from a drawer and began cutting. While I hadn’t thought it possible, the smell became worse, but I was so focused, it no longer bothered me.

  From one of the chambers, I pulled a thin gold chain with a locket attached to it. I recognized it instantly from the caverns below Coronini and the woman in the cell. As it came free from the rotted meat, a small black metal object pulled free, as well. It was a small knife formed from a gothic-style ankh. I had no idea what it was beyond the Egyptian symbol for life.

  “Damn,” said Ned from behind me. “Vampires.”

  “Well, then, I’d guess Liuntika Strigoi. I may have killed a few of them and wrecked some of their caverns. And beat up some of their thralls. And killed a woman they were turning.” I pointed at the locket. “That was hers.”

  “I’ll bet the heart was hers, too. It’s a threat. That little trinket there is a declaration of war. Looks like you pissed ’em off, dude.”

  I dropped the locket into the sink. “For the love of… can’t I catch a damn break?”

  “Trouble don’t rest, dude,” Ned said, toasting me with his beer. “What do you think that means for the troubleshooter?”

  Dear Reader,

  We hope you enjoyed Chaos Unbound, by Brian S. Leon. Please consider leaving a review on your favorite book site.

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  Acknowledgments

  I want to thank a number of people for helping me with Chaos Unbound. First and foremost, as always, I want to thank Teri and the rest of my family for their continued support and encouragement with this endeavor. I also want to thank my beta readers, Mary Cannon, Krissy Marie, and Colleen Poor, for their willingness to read early versions of this book and aid me in making it better. As always, there is no way I can thank my brilliant editors with Red Adept, Alyssa Hall and Stefanie Spangler Buswell, enough. Their hard work and efforts sharpen the story and my writing and give me the confidence to forge on. Lastly, I want to thank my readers. I have received lots of positive feedback, but more importantly, I love it when you guys feel strongly enough about something to comment on it to me directly—good or bad. Believe it or not, those comments help me make my stories better. So again, thank you.

  And for those who asked for a glossary of characters, creatures, and objects, visit the wiki on my website, www.briansleon.com/wiki. It’s way too large to include here!

  About The Author

/>   Brian S. Leon is truly a jack-of-all-trades and a master of none. He began writing in order to do something with all the useless degrees, knowledge, and skills–most of which have no practical application in civilized society–he accumulated over the years.

  His varied interests include, most notably, mythology of all kinds and fishing, and he has spent time in jungles and museums all over the world, studying and oceans and seas across the globe chasing fish, sometimes even catching them. He has also spent time in various locations around the world doing other things that may or may not have ever happened.

  Inspired by stories of classical masters like Homer and Jules Verne, as well as modern writers like J.R.R. Tolkien, David Morrell, and Jim Butcher, combined with an inordinate amount of free time, Mr. Leon finally decided to come up with tales of his own.

  Brian currently resides in San Diego, California. You can visit his Web site at www.BrianSLeon.com.