The Unbelievable Mr Brownstone Omnibus

by Michael Anderle

  Shay snickered. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never worked for anyone. Sure, I’ve had many clients, but they don’t tell me what to do, just what they want.”

  The cop chuckled and shook her head. She looked out the window for a long moment before turning back toward Shay. “Can I ask you a personal question? You can tell me to fuck off if you don’t want to answer.”

  “Need to know the question before I can tell you to fuck off.”

  “Before all this, you weren’t exactly a tomb raider.”

  Shay snorted. “That’s not a question, and you already know the answer.”

  Maria lowered the binoculars and locked eyes with Shay. “Yeah, but what I don’t get is why. You’re damned smart, and you just told me how much you would have liked to have gone into being a professor.” She frowned. “Look, I’ve been a cop for a long time. Too long. It’s hard for me to remember at times that the average person isn’t a piece-of-shit criminal. Being in AET is even worse because I run into all these people with extraordinary abilities who use them to be even bigger pieces of shit. You’re…unusual.”

  “I don’t have any special powers.”

  “But you were still one of the top hitmen in the game, and you managed to disappear when half the world was looking for you.” Maria took a deep breath. “And not only that, you walked away, which means on some level you weren’t a hitman because you got off on killing people.”

  Shay looked to the side. “Maybe. I don’t know. I’ve got a sob story about how I got into it, but I’m sure everyone does. Also not gonna lie and pretend I didn’t get excited by a well-executed hit, but it wears on you, and after a while, I got tired of thinking I was going to end up dead in a pool of my own blood, shot in the face by someone I thought was a friend. So I ended that life and started a new one. It has taken me a while to actually turn into someone other than the killer, but here I am—Shay Carson, tomb raider. Don’t know if I’m a better or worse person, but I’m sure as hell different.”

  Maria nodded, a thoughtful expression on her face. “Thanks for telling me. You really didn’t have to.”

  Shay shrugged, then grinned. “Need something to fill the time.”

  Trey stared through the binoculars at the house and barn in the distance and snorted. Nothing but cows wandering the fenced fields and chewing their cud. Same as always. The bounty hunters were hidden in an abandoned barn a half-mile away. No people, nasty smell, but nice view of the target site.

  I never thought being a bounty hunter would mean I’d have to sit and stare at cows.

  He glanced at the SUV. Shorty was looking at his phone and eating candy. Manuel was nodding to himself, singing along to some song only he could hear through his earbuds. Isaiah and Russell were sleeping. The poor bastards had had the night shift.

  Shorty opened the door, then stepped out and popped a Milk Dud into his mouth. He chewed it for a few seconds and swallowed before saying, “You see any magical bitches yet, or is it gonna be as boring as yesterday? I was thinkin’ the most boring thing in the world is watchin’ grass grow, but nah. The most boring thing is watchin’ grass grow, and cows eat it.”

  “Nope. Still just seeing a lot of cows. I can’t believe no all-powerful evil magical dudes are gonna hang out at a ranch around cows. Shouldn’t they have a sweet-ass castle or tower or some shit?” Trey snorted. “I think we got bad info from Tyler.”

  Manuel opened his door and stepped out. He pulled out his earbuds. “How do you know it’s not a trick?”

  Trey turned to look at him, not sure if he’d heard the previous conversation. “A trick?”

  “Yeah. It’s magic, right? So the fuckers use it to disguise themselves as cows, or maybe you have to run at the barn with a tractor to go through the magical portal or something like that.”

  Trey chuckled. “Maybe. You never know with this shit.”

  Shorty downed another Milk Dud, his eyes narrowing. “You know, I have a cousin who lives in Oklahoma. His dad had a small ranch.” He frowned and shook his head. “Cows are fuckin’ valuable, man. No wonder people used to jack them back in the day.” He nodded toward the ranch. “Now imagine you had some sweet-ass wheels, right? But a lot of them. Would you just park them somewhere and let them sit and never check on them?”

  Trey blinked. “What the fu— Shit.” His eyes widened.

  Shortly nodded. “Exactly.”

  Manuel looked between the two of them. “What?”

  Trey grinned at Manuel. “You’re right.”

  “I’m right about what?”

  “It being a trick. We just ain’t thought of it before because we’re a bunch of city boys who ain’t used to looking at ranches.” He pointed toward the ranch. “We ain’t seen no actual human over there since we got there. Yeah, cows eat grass and shit, but there still should be someone checking on things.”

  He pulled out his phone. “I’m gonna call the big man. I think it’s time for at least a quick look inside. Ain’t no one home to complain if we inspect their house.”

  Trey, Shorty, Manuel, and Isaiah rushed toward the fence line under cover of darkness. There was nowhere to really hide, so they didn’t even bother, although dark suits and dark tactical harnesses helped them blend into the shadows, with the help of the cloudy night. The four men, suited and with anti-magic deflectors around their necks, vaulted over the low wooden fence.

  So far, so good. No murderous wizard bitches.

  James had okayed them taking a closer look, but wanted them to pull out immediately if they encountered any resistance.

  Trey took point as they rushed down the long dirt road leading from the main road to the front of the actual home. It looked modest now, almost smaller than the nearby barn. They’d not seen any movement or light from it in days, and that trend continued.

  “Yo, Trey,” Shorty whispered. “Have you thought about what we gonna do if the 5-0 show up?”

  “We surrender immediately, and we tell them to call the big man. Simple as shit, but I don’t think no 5-0 are gonna show up. The Council bitches picked this place for a reason. We’re in the middle of Bumfuck Nowhere, Texas, and I ain’t seen no cops. No sheriff, no highway patrol. We ain’t barely seen any cars. No fucking cops are gonna show up in the middle of the night all of a sudden.”

  They arrived at the front door.

  Shorty pointed away from the house. “Look.”

  Trey turned to look. The cows were gone. “Motherfucking illusions.” He nodded to Manuel. “Do your thing, brother.” He pulled out a small flashlight and shined it on the lock.

  The other man fished out a small pouch containing lockpicking tools. “It’s been a while. Usually, y’all just kick the door down or shoot it.”

  “It gets the job done.” Trey smirked.

  Shorty and Isaiah moved to either side of the porch, their guns out, scanning the inky darkness for enemies.

  A half-minute later, the front door clicked, and Manuel grinned.

  “Everyone get out their flashlights,” Trey ordered.

  They all complied, holding their flashlights with their left hands and setting their right arms atop their left to stabilize their shooting arms.

  Trey nodded. “Three…two…one.”

  He threw open the door and rushed in, sweeping the area with his light. The only enemy he encountered was dust. The other men rushed in, weapons ready.

  Trey flipped on a light switch, half-expecting some hideous ghoul to appear, not just a slightly dated living room set with a really unfortunate orange color scheme.

  “Watch the door, Isaiah. Manuel, you back him up. Shorty, you’re with me.”

  The men all nodded their acknowledgment.

  Trey and Shorty hit the kitchen, bathroom, and bedrooms in rapid order. There was no evidence that anyone had been there recently. Even the refrigerator was empty, and the beds lacked sheets or blankets.

  The bounty hunters made their way to the back door and searched the area off the back porch with their flashlight
s.

  “Hey,” Shorty whispered, “you see that?” He pointed with his flashlight.

  Trey narrowed his eyes at a bump in the distance. “What the fuck is that?”

  His partner laughed. “What? You ain’t never gone nowhere but LA or Vegas, have you? It’s a storm cellar. For tornadoes and shit.”

  “Nice.” Trey nodded. “Go get the guys. We’re gonna poke inside and see if someone’s worried about a storm named Brownstone coming.”

  Shorty nodded and rushed off. Fifteen seconds later, all three men returned.

  Trey grinned and rushed outside. The other men fell in behind him in an inverted wedge formation. The team sprinted toward the storm cellar and surrounded it, their weapons pointed down.

  “On three,” Trey whispered. He knelt by the huge wooden door and held up a finger, then two, then three. He grabbed the door and felt no resistance. It was unlocked. He threw it open.

  A long hiss pierced the still night. Two pairs of slit glowing yellow eyes stared up from the darkened storm cellar. Their flashlights highlighted portions of the massive reptilian creature below, but more importantly, they revealed the ten pairs of legs, each foot tipped with massive claws, and a jaw with three rows of teeth. The monster rushed toward the ladder leading into the cellar.

  Trey shot to his feet and backed up. Without even a second of hesitation, he yanked a flashbang from his tactical harness. “Flashbang in.” He threw the grenade.

  The grenade went off with an echoing pop, and the creature inside let out a huge hiss. When Trey yanked out a frag grenade, the other men followed suit.

  “Frag in,” they shouted in order, each tossing his grenade. A few seconds later, the explosions rocked the storm cellar. The monster below thrashed and hissed, its blue blood splattering the walls.

  “Finish it,” Trey shouted. “Conventional rounds first. Keep firing until I tell you otherwise.”

  The bounty hunters raised their weapons and opened fire, the loud report of their shots echoing in the neighboring space and deafening them.

  Trey ran through his magazine. “Cease fire, cease fire!” he shouted.

  All three men complied instantly.

  Shit. Staff Sergeant’s training really is paying off.

  Trey chuckled and reloaded his weapon. The other men copied him, and they pointed their flashlights inside the storm cellar. The reptile monster lay dead, dozens of large holes in it. A thin layer of its blood coated the walls and the ground.

  “Now that ain’t somethin’ you see every day,” Shorty mumbled. “Even in LA.”

  Trey chuckled. “Damned right.” He pointed with his gun. “Looks like we got ourselves a watchdog, so time to see what it’s hiding.”

  Manuel winced. “You want us to go down in that?”

  Shorty smirked. “You want to be workin’ for James Brownstone you best remember your balls, no matter what freak-ass monster you’re dealin’ with.” He leapt into the cellar, ignoring the ladder, and landed with a loud thud.

  Trey rolled his eyes and shook his head.

  “Yo,” Shorty called from inside. “You want to see this, Trey. I think it’s some magic shit.”

  Trey slid down the ladder and looked where Shorty’s flashlight illuminated the wall.

  An intricate pulsing sigil covered the wall.

  Shorty frowned. “You think that shit’s important?”

  Trey lifted his phone to take a picture. “Yup.” The air shimmered slightly, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. His heart sped up. “Shit. Let’s go. Something’s wrong.”

  A low hum filled the cellar.

  They exchanged looks and ran for the ladder, scampering out of the storm cellar as the hum grew steadily in volume.

  “Run, you sorry bitches,” Trey shouted.

  The four bounty hunters sprinted away from the storm cellar. A massive explosion erupted, knocking them all to the ground and sending a plume of flame, dirt, and rock into the sky.

  Trey winced and rolled over. “Y’all okay?”

  Shorty nodded. Manuel groaned and shrugged. Isaiah grunted.

  Their leader stood and dusted himself off. He sighed as he felt the back of his suit. There were more than a few new holes.

  “I knew I shouldn’t have brought a new suit on this motherfucking job.”

  18

  Dannec didn’t tense when his alarm spells tripped, though he still grabbed the deadly horn. Just because he was expecting Correk didn’t mean he couldn’t be ambushed by someone from the Council.

  The Fixer stepped through the portal a second later and eyed the horn with a faint smile until the other elf put it away. The portal stayed opened behind him.

  Correk held out a thick tome. “This might help in your research. Borrowed from the Library.”

  Dannec eyed the book for a moment. “They let you check this out?”

  “What they don’t know,” Correk explained, “won’t cause me problems later, so please don’t spill anything on that.” He waved and stepped back through the portal. This time it vanished.

  Dannec took the book to a recliner. Trey’s discovery of a sigil in the storm cellar had been followed by the other two teams finding different sigils and experiencing equally unpleasant explosions. No one had been injured.

  He’d looked at the pictures the teams had sent and had no clue what they meant. He hoped the Fixer’s aid would improve the situation. It was obvious from the minimal defenses at the three locations that the Council hadn’t anticipated anyone stumbling upon them, and the government’s intelligence contained no records of the sites or similar sigils that might shed light on these.

  Tyler remained tightlipped about how he’d gotten the information, but Dannec had heard rumors that the Eyes’ club had closed down for a few days shortly after Tyler had sent the information to the hackers.

  The elf shook his head. Humans sometimes didn’t appreciate how dangerous and alien creatures from Oriceran could be.

  He opened the tome, which was a rather ancient survey of powerful sigils. From what Correk had told him before his arrival, the book might have dated from before the Great War.

  Dannec ran his hand over the page, and the spine glowed. He took a deep breath and imagined the first sigil in his mind. The tome shook and twitched, and he pulled his hand back. The pages began to flip themselves at a furious pace before stopping on a page with the exact sigil he’d envisioned.

  He narrowed his eyes as he read. “Interesting. Very interesting.”

  Just what magic are you playing at, Council?

  Tyler stood behind the bar at the Black Sun drinking a beer. James sat on the other side, already on to his second. Shay and Maria chatted quietly at a table in the corner.

  The bounty hunter was unsure if his team was making good progress. Dannec was still investigating the sigils they’d found, and they’d recovered a few artifacts, but the main Council members remained hidden, and more importantly, alive. He was frustrated. He’d hoped the bastards would get angry enough to want to come at him. Cat and mouse was not a game he enjoyed.

  Tyler took another sip of his beer. “This shit is weird.”

  James grunted. “Your beer. Your bar.”

  Tyler chuckled. “No, not that. All this helping you guys take on the Council shit. I’ve given up on pretending this is about money. There are safer ways to earn money, ones that don’t keep me up at night.”

  “Big money means big danger.” The bounty hunter shrugged. He was grateful for Tyler’s help, but he wasn’t going to sugarcoat the situation.

  Time to man up, Tyler.

  Tyler sighed. “How do you do it, Brownstone?”

  “Do what?”

  “Keep going after these assholes.” Tyler frowned. “Yeah, I get it, you’re a badass, and you have special artifacts and shit, but even you get hurt. Don’t you worry that someday you’ll go after some bounty and he’ll turn out to be tougher than you? That you’ll die?”

  James gulped down some beer. “Not re
ally.”

  “Your stones are just that big?”

  The bounty hunter shook his head. “Regular cops don’t have half the weapons and shit I have. Every time they get a call, they don’t know if they’re going to go and find some drunk idiot waving around a pellet gun or some demon-summoning witch who’s just waiting to kill them because she’s bored.” James snorted. “Nah. It’s not about big balls when you know you’re a badass and run toward danger. I’m good at punching shit, so I do.”

  Tyler nodded slowly. “Yeah. Although AET had access to impressive weapons and equipment, a cop still died going after those Council lackeys. Shit, Maria could have died. I guess I’m just realizing that taking down the Council isn’t going to be easy. I thought maybe this shit would be over in a few days.”

  “Yeah, we need more intel and a bigger hammer.” James grunted.

  The bartender stared at him like he’d grown a second head.

  “What?” James rumbled.

  Tyler shrugged. “I always figured your main strategy was to just go in there and beat them down until they lost consciousness.”

  “That’s the simplest strategy, and I like shit simple. But these aren’t the kind of people we can just rush at without thinking. We need more information so we can do this shit the smart way. Until then, I’m not going anywhere, and I’m telling everyone else not to go anywhere.”

  Shay looked over from her table with a grin. “Oh, James Brownstone getting thoughtful. I think I must have been knocked into some parallel universe.”

  Maria chuckled.

  He grunted and shrugged. “Just saying.”

  The door opened and Dannec stepped through, a smug smile on his face. Everyone turned to look at him.

  Tyler frowned. “The door’s supposed to be locked.”