A soft smile appeared on Shay’s face. “Good, I was worried there for a second.”
“Worried?”
She nodded. “I have to go on that tomb raid with Lily soon, and I didn’t want to leave you if you were going to be all mopey and shit.”
James snorted. “I’m never mopey and shit.”
Shay snickered. “’Mopey and shit’ is like your default setting.” She winked. “But I make all that go away.” She pointed to the GPS readout on the front console screen. “Looks like we’re already there. Let’s finish off these assholes and go back to the hotel where I can make sure you’re extra non-mopey…even if I’m gonna end up a little sore.”
James grinned. “Little motivation never hurt.”
Time to go all nuclear.
They parked several hundred yards away from the unassuming adobe house at the end of the road. Split-wood fencing sectioned off dried and cracked ground supporting only a few plants here and there. Someone might have once tried to raise some cattle there, only to find out they’d made a horrible mistake.
Shay stepped out of the SUV. James followed a few seconds later.
“Bond with Whispy Doom,” Shay called.
James grunted. “I don’t need him for this shit. These guys would barely be threes if they weren’t with the Council.”
Shay shook her head. “If you’re so worried about that thing, you need to use it more, not less. Make sure it knows who’s in charge.” Shay checked the magazine in her 9mm. “I’ve had plenty of unstable artifacts that aren’t half as useful.”
Yeah, guess she’s right. He’s gonna be an annoying bitch though. Getting mouthier every day.
James nodded and reached under his shirt to yank off the metal separator keeping the amulet from touching his skin. A second later, he hissed as pain shot from his chest, the amulet sinking into his flesh.
Initiation, the amulet sent into his mind.
Naptime is over, James thought back. Time to do what we do best.
Kill the enemy. Adapt. Grow stronger.
James grunted. Yeah, that about sums it up. He jogged toward the ranch house.
Shay hurried after him. “I thought we were going to hit them with a few drones first. That was what you told me earlier.”
“Fuck it. You wanted me to use the damned amulet, I’m using the damned amulet.” James pulled out his .45. “We’ve fought enough of these Council pieces of shit that Whispy Doom’s adapted to most anything they’ve got.”
Find stronger enemies. Kill, adapt, and grow stronger for maximum potential. Extended advanced mode is not maximum potential.
Yeah, yeah. I’ll just keep getting pissier until I blow up a city. I get it. That would make you happy, wouldn’t it, you fucking sadist?
Kill stronger enemies for maximum potential. Environment irrelevant.
James snorted. Every time he used the amulet he understood it more, or maybe Whispy Doom was figuring out how to communicate with him more clearly. He’d had the damned thing his entire life, and it unnerved him to think about what it might have been saying all those years.
Someone threw open the front door of the ranch house, and two men with wands filed out.
James slowed his jog, Shay right behind.
“I’m James Brownstone. I’m working a continuing class-six organizational bounty on the Council, dead or alive. You assholes can surrender right now and take a nice trip, or you can fucking die right here. I don’t really give a shit what you choose. I get paid either way.”
One of the wizards snorted. “The Council lives. He Who Hunts lives.”
James let out a low growl. He hated it when assholes were right.
Find stronger enemy. Engage stronger enemy for advanced adaptation potential.
“Yeah, your last big tough guy from the Council? It’s been a few weeks now, and I haven’t seen him at any place I’ve raided, nor any of the military guys.” James chuckled. “Sounds like a pussy who doesn’t want to fight. And that’s assuming he didn’t crawl off to bleed to death somewhere.”
Shay edged toward a small outhouse for cover. More wizards stepped out of the house until ten men stood there. That was far more than the five James had been told would be present.
Guess it’s a two-for-one bounty today.
James shook his head. “Last chance—”
A blindingly white ball of blue-white fire blasted from one of the wands, but James stood firm. The blast crashed into him, the flames burning through his shabby gray coat in an instant. The smell of burnt polyester and cotton filled his nostrils. Other than a slight sting and redness on his chest, no one would even know he’d been hit by a magical fireball.
The wizards’ eyes widened and they all spread out, bringing up their wands. They held their breaths, aiming at him, but none daring to break away in a run or say anything else.
Find stronger enemies, Whispy demanded. Adaptation near maximum for existing attacks. Inefficient use of time.
I get paid for this shit.
Shay moved in the corner of James’ eye. She flattened herself against the outhouse. She’d holstered her pistol and pulled out an adamantine knife.
Good plan. With so many wizards, they’re gonna have shielding magic.
James holstered his pistol and yanked out the adamantine knife Shay had lent him.
Need to get my own magic blade. Can’t always borrow Shay’s shit.
Additional external weapons unnecessary, Whispy Doom sent. Generate sufficient power for advanced mode or extended advanced mode.
James snickered. Apparently, his amulet was jealous.
I don’t need advanced mode for these assholes. That’s like sending a Superbowl team after some AA high school team. Where’s the fun in that? Only using you because Shay insisted, otherwise you’d be still asleep.
Female human has maximized tactical possibilities with suggestion.
James snorted. The last thing he needed was Whispy Doom, Alison, and Shay ganging up on him. Maybe he’d been wrong, and Whispy was female. Just what he needed, a woman who could get directly into his head.
Fuck. Need to concentrate. Shut your mo…shut up.
James pointed his knife at the pack of wizards. “That all you got? I fucking personally killed members of the Council, assholes. You really think your weak-ass magic would work on me? Should have taken me up on my surrender offer.”
He charged straight toward them. A rainbow of death blasted toward him. Fire. Ice. Electricity. Acid.
Now what the fuck is that purple shit?
Adaptation near maximum for existing attack.
I get that it doesn’t hurt much, but… You know what? Forget it.
He grunted as the magic struck him, shredding his jacket, shirt, and pants but accomplishing little more than inflicting a few minor burns and cuts. He continued charging straight at the wizards as they tried to rain death down on him. The only obstacle at this point was the thick and blinding cloud of dust thrown up by all the explosions.
Don’t need to see to stab, assholes.
A second later, his theory became reality as his knife pierced the heart of a wizard. The man screamed, and James yanked the blade out. He spun toward the nearest shadow and slashed at the neck. The half-decapitated man fell to the ground gurgling, his blood spraying all over his killer and the ground. Two other screams from James’ left confirmed Shay had closed on the enemy while they were distracted.
The dust settled from the barrages, and more targets came into view. Shay spun, slashed, and kicked through the enemy’s flank, even cutting through a man’s wand. James grunted and leapt toward his next closest target, slamming the knife into the man’s head. He wasn’t sure if the wizards weren’t using defensive magic or if they were and the gnome-crafted knife was piercing it.
He didn’t have time to ask. It’d taken them hours to drive there, but it’d taken less than a minute to kill every wizard.
Find stronger enemies, Whispy Doom insisted. Lack of use of advanced a
nd additional modes will lead to tactical inefficiency.
Yeah, yeah, practice like I play. I know, Coach.
Coach is incorrect designation.
What is the correct designation, then? Whispy Doom?
Most efficient designation for now.
James smirked as he surveyed the bodies. “Too many to fit in the back. Glad I brought a head bag.”
Shay laughed. “You know even when I was a professional killer, I never said shit like, ‘Glad I brought a head bag.’”
He shrugged. “Just trying to be practical.”
They were only an hour out from the city now. They could turn the heads in for bounty credit, then drive to an airport and return home.
James frowned, not looking forward to a flight—even a short one.
Fucking planes. I need to find some portal wizard to follow me around.
Shay stared out the window, a far-off look in her eye. “You ever try asking?”
“Huh? Asking what?”
She looked James’ way. “Before you couldn’t communicate with Whispy Doom, but now, from what you’ve told me, you can have a decent conversation.”
He snorted. “A decent conversation? He—or maybe she, I don’t know—just tells me to kill stronger people to adapt and get pissed so I can go into more advanced modes. How is that a decent conversation? It’s like having the Devil always whispering in your ear and telling you to sin.”
Shay rolled her eyes. “The point is that it’s self-aware and intelligent. It might have all the answers you need. I know you said you don’t care, but it wouldn’t hurt.”
Oh, is that what this is about?
James shrugged. “I already have.”
She blinked. “What?”
“I tried asking him about a week after the Council showdown. About my planet and shit.”
“And?”
James snorted. “He doesn’t know a lot. Just kept yammering on about how his primary directive is to strengthen me, and his secondary directive will unlock once I’ve achieved ‘sufficient advancement.’” He grunted. “Doesn’t know shit about where I came from, at least that he’ll admit, just says he adapted my DNA for ‘better integration into local conditions. Complained about my ‘excessive autonomy leading to tactical inefficiency.’”
“What does that mean?”
“Don’t know. Maybe he’s supposed to be calling the shots more than me.” James frowned. “I really don’t know. I get the feeling he’s almost as clueless as me, just acting on instinct and programming. From what I can tell, he even accepts that his name is Whispy Doom now. Gets pissy when I call him Coach, but never complains anymore about Whispy Doom.”
Shay chuckled. “Aww. How cute. You’ve trained it.” Her smile faded, and she furrowed her brow. “Secondary directive, huh? Wonder what that means. Maybe once that becomes available he’ll know more.”
James shrugged. “Don’t know. Don’t fucking care. Worry about it once he knows what it is.”
Shay rolled her eyes. “Sure. Whatever you say. You have to be the least curious man I’ve ever known.”
“I care about the shit in front of me. That keeps life—”
“Simple,” Shay finished for him. She grinned.
3
A couple of days later, Trey surveyed the gathered bounty hunters of the Brownstone Agency. Although they had a team off in Vegas, every other man stood in formation behind the building. Staff Sergeant Royce and James stood in front of the formation.
Every day it’s like we turn more into soldiers or Marines than bounty hunters. Shit. Don’t even know if that’s a bad thing. Maybe we all should have signed our asses up for the Army before the big man had to convince us to stop being criminals.
Trey smiled to himself and waited. He knew why they were all there, even if the rest of the men didn’t.
Royce whispered something to James, who nodded back and grunted.
The staff sergeant stepped forward and cleared his throat. “I’ve been talking more to James and Trey about how everything went down with the Council. I know I haven’t said much these past few weeks other than how proud I am, but I don’t think that’s enough.”
Everyone locked their attention on the man, the raw wound from Shorty’s death still fresh. Many of them had begged James to let them come along on Council seek-and-destroy missions, but he’d wanted them to concentrate on LA and Vegas while he finished off the last vestiges of the magical cabal. Trey agreed.
Royce wore a stern look, but not a frown. “We’ve talked a lot since I started training you in discipline, both in combat and otherwise. I’ve made you read a lot of Marcus Aurelius, and if you’ve gotten anything out of his work, it should be that the only thing we can really control is ourselves. Not our circumstances, not others, and certainly not damned fate.”
Trey snorted. Fuck. Don’t I know it, if I didn’t before.
The men all nodded, but no one said a word.
“Make no mistake, men. You’re in a dangerous line of work, far more than when you were criminals. You all know that even a simple bounty can turn out to be more complicated. It was the same thing when I was in the Corps.” Royce shrugged. “We’d get missions, and those were supposed to be backed up with intelligence, but sometimes shit was wrong, or shit just went south. I wasn’t a desk jockey or chairborne ranger. I know what it’s like to lose a brother-in-arms, even when the rest of the mission went well.”
A few men swallowed. Trey took a few deep breaths.
Royce pointed at Trey, his brow furrowed. “Shorty sacrificed himself to save another man. He accomplished what a lot of men who take up arms will not be able to do. He got to choose the time and place of his death, and he got to choose a death that had some damned meaning. An honorable death.”
A few murmurs of “damned right” and “fuck, yeah, Shorty” followed.
James stood, his arms crossed, watching the staff sergeant.
“We mourn the dead, and that is good. That’s right to do.” Royce shook his head. “But we shouldn’t diminish what Shorty did or feel sorry that he made a choice to save another man. We should honor his bravery. Honor his choice. Honor that he died defending his friend, his country, and his planet from sons of bitches who thought they could do whatever they wanted.
“Shorty, along with each of you, went to the Council and their wizards and witches and monsters, and you made it clear that, ‘You don’t get to do what the fuck you want just because you have a little magic.’ You went to these assholes who thought they could set up a base in our country, and you said, ‘America doesn’t bend the knee to terrorists and criminals just because they have wands.’”
“Hell, yeah!” the men chorused.
The drill instructor waited for the excited murmurs to die down. “That’s what it means to be a true warrior. You don’t go seeking death. If anything, it’s like General Patton said: the best situation is to kill the other son of a bitch. Today, though, we honor the next best choice.” He nodded to Trey.
Trey took another deep breath and stepped forward. He turned to face the men. “So, I was talking to Staff Sergeant and the big man. We ain’t the military. We don’t have no fancy medals and shit to hand out. Shorty don’t get to be buried in Arlington.” He shrugged. “But that don’t mean we ain’t got no way to honor him. To pay our motherfucking respects to a man who paid the ultimate price.”
Another “hell, yeah” thundered from the men.
Trey pointed to the maze of walls and towers they’d been using for anti-magic training. “We’ve been calling that Fort Brownstone. The big man says we can officially name it ‘Fort Shorty.’ He even paid for this fine-ass fancy plaque that explains just who Shorty was and what he done for me and America.” He shrugged. “But y’all have to agree. This ain’t me delivering shit from on high. So, what do you think…we have a Fort Shorty now?”
The men cheered, hooted, and hollered.
With a smile, he turned toward Royce and James. “Looks like they think
it’s a good idea.”
Royce nodded, and James cracked a smile.
Trey grinned. “Thought you would say that. I’ll go get the plaque, and we’ll get that bastard up on the wall of Fort Shorty.”
As he headed toward the door, a wave of positive feelings made his entire body feel light. It wasn’t as if he had expected the rest of the men to say no, but at the same time, it was hard to forget that Shorty had sacrificed himself for Trey.
I best be living a life that you won’t give me shit about when I check out and join you, huh, Shorty?
Trey thought back to their discussions of the future. He’d convinced himself that just because he no longer assumed he would die young, he’d been thinking about the future, but in truth, he hadn’t put thought into how to live, only how to not die.
Thoughts of Zoe bubbled up again.
Why was I saving myself? Because I didn’t want some woman to have to throw herself over my coffin crying? But I gave it up to Zoe. Damned fine woman, and damned fine sex.
Trey opened the door and made his way down the hallway. The plaque was sitting in the reception area on his aunt’s desk.
Did that shit with Zoe even mean anything? She said how I was great and how she got all that energy and shit, but the few times I’ve tried to call her these last few weeks, she said she was busy.
He snorted and shook his head. He couldn’t be sure.
Women. It didn’t matter if they were witches or not. They remained the world’s greatest mystery.
James was barely paying attention to the podcast as he drove home in his F-350. The setting sun painted the sky orange and pink. If he hadn’t been in a funk, he might have even appreciated it. Every once in a while, a word or sentence would catch his attention, and he’d pay attention for a few lines.
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