“Lose your brain again, Brownstone?” Tyler asked, setting down the glass he’d been polishing. “Or just your sanity?”
“Maybe my memory.” The bounty gestured around the room. “Last time I was in here this place looked like the ass-end of a garbage dump. Now there’s a new paint job, newly-refinished bar, and new tables and chairs. New TV that’s twice as big. You’re not that good an information broker, Tyler. What gives?”
The bartender smirked. “You can think what you want, muscle-head, but I’m smart enough to seize opportunities when they present themselves and some of those opportunities have proven very profitable.”
“And what the hell does that mean? You sell some really nice tip recently?”
Tyler leaned forward and rested his elbows on the bar. “It’s not like I wasn’t following your little Tour de Violence with the hitmen, asshole. That was an opportunity to make some money, so I seized it.”
Brownstone glared at him. “What? You got rich selling my location to hitmen? Is that why they were always on me?”
Tyler scoffed. “No, that information was pretty much free on the net. Everyone wanted your ass dead, so they were all sharing. Value comes from scarcity, not that I’d expect you to understand a concept like that.”
“But you made money off me?”
“Yeah, but I found a better way to make money.”
“How?”
Tyler shrugged. “I set up a little gambling pool. Oh, it was nice. Bets on how long you would survive, how many guys you’d take out—all sorts of shit. A slice of that helped me earn a lot, but that was just the beginning.”
Brownstone chuckled. “Aww, poor baby. Bet you never planned on me surviving. Must have really fucked up your profit plans.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, asshole.” Tyler laughed and shook his head. “Nah, I hedged on you living, Brownstone. Surviving like the cockroach you are. Took out a big bet myself that your ass would survive when almost no one believed it.” He slapped the bar. “This is the bar that betting for and against Brownstone built. You might not have made me rich, but you’ve made me a lot more comfortable. Now when you go home tonight and sleep, I want you to think about how while you were out there dodging killers I was making money off your suffering.”
“Couldn’t have happened to a bigger asshole. Hope your bar burns down tonight.”
“Whatever. Did you just come here to harass me? I’m a respectable businessman who helps the local economy by hiring contractors. You can’t just come in here and harass me.”
“No, Mr. Respectable Businessman. I came to ask for some information on a bounty.” Brownstone nodded toward the room. “And since I made you so much money, maybe you should give me this one for free. Consider it my slice of the pool, since it was my life you were betting on.”
“You might be a good bounty hunter, but you’re a shitty businessman. You don’t get rich giving away shit. Tell me what you want, and maybe I’ll tell you a price or maybe I’ll tell you to take a fucking hike. It’s all about opportunities as far as I’m concerned.”
“I need anything you can give me on Xander Stevens.”
Tyler’s face scrunched up in confusion. “Seriously? Are you fucking messing with me?”
“Nope. Xander Stevens.”
The bartender laughed. “I heard they fined the fuck out of you, but I thought all those Harriken bounties paid it off. If you’re going after level-one losers like Stevens you must be harder up than I thought. Oh, this is great.”
“My bank account’s just fine.” Brownstone snorted. “Give me the fucking information or I’ll show you how hard my fist is.”
“Nah, nah. It’s fine. Don’t get all bitchy, now. Protecting some loser like Stevens doesn’t have a lot of profit in it.” Tyler pulled out a notepad and pen from a drawer and scribbled a number after consulting his phone. He slid it in front of Brownstone. “That should at least get you started.” He winked. “Good luck, Brownstone. By the way, word on the street is the Harriken aren’t done with you.”
“Yeah, I know. Maybe you should start another betting pool.”
Tyler grinned. “Nah. I don’t want to press my luck. But, hey, try to not die early, just in case, you know, I change my mind.”
James snatched the paper and turned to leave. “At least it doesn’t smell like piss anymore.”
9
James stepped out of the Black Sun and headed toward his F-350. He still found himself surprised by the impressive repair job. Everything from the handling to the paint job was as good as before, if not better. No one would ever suspect the truck had been parked right next to an exploding house and ended up with debris in the engine and pieces of wood in the windshield.
The bounty hunter checked underneath the truck just in case Tyler had someone trying something clever, and once satisfied he wasn’t about to be blown up, the bounty hunter stepped inside the truck.
He was just about to put the key in the ignition when his phone rang, so he tossed the ring on the dashboard and answered it.
“Hey, Shay,” James answered.
“First of all, just wanted to let you know that I got a call from Peyton. He says at least some of our new friends are on the move, or at least getting ready to be on the move.”
“Where?”
“Out of Japan.”
“So they’re coming to party here?”
“That’s what I’d assume. Can’t be a hundred percent sure, though.”
James grunted. “Good. It’ll be easier if we deal with them on our turf. Then we’ll go over there and handle the source of this shit. Do we know when they’ll get here?”
“Nope. Too good at covering their tracks. Just know that some of them might be on their way. Could be one, could be all of them.”
“Guess we should clear our social calendars then.”
Shay chuckled. “Yeah. That’s not all I called about, though. I have a few questions.”
“About?”
“Your past. It’ll help me with my research on your little toy. You busy?”
James shrugged reflexively even though Shay couldn’t see him. “I was in the middle of something, but it’s nothing that can’t wait a few seconds. Ask away.”
He could hear the rustle of paper over the line.
“First question: can you tell me anything more about your speech as a kid when they found you?” Shay asked. “That might help narrow things down a bit.”
“I told you, I just made weird pops and clicks. I didn’t speak any language. I just assumed I was making strange noises because I was scared.”
“I think you might be wrong.”
“Huh? What do you mean?”
“There are languages on Earth that have pops and clicks—things like Xhosa. It might not have been that you’re weren’t speaking a language, only that you weren’t speaking a language anyone understood—especially if you were teleported from somewhere far from the United States.”
James had honestly never thought of the possibility. So many holes remained in his memory from when he was young. He’d never worried that much about those early dark memories, given that plenty of people couldn’t remember much from when they were very young. It only was an issue because of his mysterious past and the amulet.
The bounty hunter let out a chuckle. His memory had grown better and stronger as he’d gotten older, to the point he now had an effectively photographic memory in most situations.
Was that going to happen anyway, or is my stronger memory because I’ve been using the amulet?
“Well, the guys at the Church weren’t experts on foreign languages other than Latin,” James replied. “They just said I couldn’t speak English and they taught it to me. They were worried that maybe I was slow or something, but I didn’t have any problems learning to speak, and picked up everything else pretty quickly too.”
Shay mumbled something to herself before speaking clearly over the line. “And you said you remembered being in a jungle? Do you
remember anything about it? The types of plants, the animals…anything? Even the colors? Anything you can recall might help us narrow it down to somewhere on Earth or let us know it was Oriceran. Any tiny detail.”
James let out a little growl of frustration. “Been trying to think about it for years, but all I can remember is being in a jungle and being scared. Then I was in a dirt field in Los Angeles County. I didn’t know that was where I was at the time, but that’s what I was told later. I remember the dirt field and I remember smelling shit, but maybe it was fertilizer.”
Shay sighed. “Is there anything else you can tell me about the amulet that might be helpful? Anything you left out before?”
“I don’t know. It makes me tougher, improves my telekinesis, and...it hurts like fucking hell when I put it on. I can feel it spreading out in me.”
Shay made a disgusted little noise on the other end.
Yeah, think about how I feel when I put that thing on.
“But does it make you stronger or faster otherwise?” the tomb raider asked. “I’ve seen you hit people, Brownstone. Even if you slamming a guy into a wall with one punch isn’t magic, it’s not normal.”
“That has nothing to do with the amulet. As I got older I got stronger and faster than most people, even more than I’d expect from all the exercise I did. I never thought much about it until I was told they didn’t want me playing sports because it was too dangerous for people playing against me.”
“Okay, I think that’s a good start. I’ll check into some things and let you know.”
“Thanks, Shay.”
“No problem.” She ended the call.
He’d passed up another chance to tell her about the whispers, despite telling her he wanted her help.
James grunted. A lie by omission was still a lie. If Shay couldn’t make any progress, he might be forced to tell her about the whispers.
Still, everyone had a few secrets, and the woman, much like Alison, was one of the few people he didn’t want to risk pushing away. Caring this much was unfamiliar to him, and as painful as it was pleasant.
Please find the truth, Shay.
The amulet weighing on her mind, Shay drove her Fiat Spider to Warehouse Four, making sure to take a circuitous route from her home. No matter how comfortable she became with Brownstone, Peyton, and Alison, that didn’t change the fact that powerful people might come after her if they realized where and who she was.
The tomb raider was worried about the Harriken, but she assumed that soon enough she and Brownstone would end that threat.
Shay parked her car underneath an overhang and walked to the recessed back door. After a quick survey of the sky to make sure there were no suspicious drones nearby, she disabled the motion sensors with her phone and unlocked the door.
Her next obstacles included a keypad and a retinal scanner, so she entered the required code and scanned her eye. The internal bolts locking the interior door retracted and she slipped into the dimly-lit main room.
The lights flicked on. Row after row of bookcases lined the walls floor to ceiling, along with several rolling ladders.
Shay inhaled deeply through her nose, enjoying the cool air and the scent of old books, history, knowledge, and truth.
Brownstone might barbecue to relax, but Shay loved disappearing into her books.
I know I’ve seen those glyphs somewhere. Time to get cracking.
A couple of hours later Shay sat at a table with piles of books, some closed and stacked, others open. Printouts of the UV-enhanced images from her goggles sat on either side of an open book in front of her.
Her search hadn’t brought her any closer to identifying the glyphs on the amulet.
Where have I seen these images? Not Mycenean. Not Old-Kingdom hieroglyphics. Not ancient Chinese. Not ancient Sumerian. They also don’t look like a lot of the more common Oriceran scripts used during ancient contact. Elven, Gnomic, Dwarven, Atlantean...all look nothing like those glyphs.
Shay looked down at her book, a tome written in the 1920s, which chronicled a now-forgotten and lost archaeological expedition to some Egyptian pyramids headed up by one Sir Michael Garfield. The field archaeologist settled down to flip through the pages, sighing.
Was it something I’ve seen recently? Something I was looking up for a job? Damn it, I know I’ve seen them.
Thinking about her old jobs didn’t narrow it down. She’d been all over the world in recent months, from Peru to Austria, and she’d also read more than a few books about areas that didn’t have to do with any of her jobs.
I’ve been doing nothing but throwing more hay on top of the needle. Perfect.
The frustration built with each passing minute. If she’d had no clue about the glyphs, she would have been less bothered than with the current prickling sensation in the back of her mind of having recently seen the symbols.
“Of course Brownstone has to make this fucking complicated,” she mumbled. “Why couldn’t he just have an artifact with some old Elvish script on it or something? Binding shit in the darkness and all that.”
Shay turned the page, ready for more disappointment, but her hand froze. She stared at the image on the page, her pulse thundering and her breathing shallow.
The picture capturing her attention wasn’t the best image, given that it was a reprint of a photograph of rubbings found in the notes from the Garfield expedition. Even with all those filter layers, the fuzzy image contained several symbols that looked like stylized versions of the glyphs on Brownstone’s amulet.
No fucking way.
Shay’s gaze flicked back and forth between the picture in the book and the photos next to it. Each look only cemented in her mind that she was looking at the same basic symbols.
“Found you.”
A quick review of the page’s text discussed the mysterious lost Garfield Hieroglyphs and how scholars had decided Garfield had either recorded them incorrectly or faked them, since no other Egyptian expedition had found similar hieroglyphs.
The tomb raider gasped. She finally remembered where she’d seen the amulet glyphs before: on pyramids, just not Egyptian pyramids.
What was the name of that book? I have to find it.
Shay shot up from her chair and sprinted to a nearby bookshelf. Her fingers flew along the spines until she located a book she’d read a few weeks ago, Ancient Pyramids of Latin America. Because of her recent jobs in South America, she’d been trying to improve her general knowledge of the area.
The tomb raider hurried back to the table and opened the book, flipping through it with such force she risked ripping the pages—normally unthinkable for a book that was over a hundred years old. Her hand shook and her pulse pounded in her ears as each page surrendered to a new one.
Shay finally stopped flipping and stared at a large print of a Toltec step pyramid. Even though the Toltec pyramid and the Egyptian pyramids mentioned in the Garfield Expedition were separated by both thousands of miles and years, they shared similar glyphs.
Too many specific details for this to be a coincidence. These had to come from a common cultural influence, but what?
The Toltec pyramid symbols, according to local informants, had been taught to the local people by beings they referred to as “the Sky Gods.”
Shay shook her head, trying to think the implications through. Before the truth about Oriceran came out, many writers and scholars had attempted to tie ancient sites and artifacts to non-Oriceran aliens possessing advanced technology rather than magic.
Now, though, everyone just assumed that all those stories weren’t about Little Green Men from Alpha Centauri, but Little Not-so-Green Elves from Oriceran or similar beings. The old-school Ancient Alien Hypothesis was dismissed as something only rambling crazies believed, despite the fact that no one had a problem casually attributing many ancient mysteries to magic.
Shay snickered.
What if we just made the wrong assumptions…again? We thought we were right about history, but we didn’t kn
ow what the hell we were talking about. We always want to believe the easy, neat story, and that would be that there’s just Earth and Oriceran. Adding other planets with intelligent life into the mix makes things less elegant, but the truth isn’t always elegant.
The tomb raider started pacing, trying to work through everything in her mind. She might be the one making assumptions and jumping to conclusions rather than the scholars. It wasn’t impossible that some ancient Oriceran culture now long gone had left the symbols and disappeared from the history of both worlds, but there was no evidence linking the glyphs to Oriceran other than assumption.
If it’s not Oriceran and it involves sky gods, that suggests another planet.
Shay stared at photos of the amulet. “Just what the hell is this thing?”
10
“You better not be shitting me,” James growled into his phone. “I’m getting really fucking impatient. It’s been a long night.”
“I’m serious, man. That’s Xander’s number. I promise. I swear. Please just don’t come after me. I ain’t done shit but some dust, man.”
“I’m gonna hang up now. I hope for your sake you’re telling the truth, or you better start running.” He ended the call.
The bounty hunter leaned back in the seat of his truck and let out a loud groan. Tyler must have been fucking with him by giving him a number he knew would lead to Xander Stevens, but not without a lot of legwork.
What had followed was a series of escalating calls and threats. Stevens probably knew James was coming for him now, but that could be a good thing. When spooked bounties ran they made a lot of noise that made them easy to track.
Tyler, you fucker, you’re probably sitting there laughing at me. Doesn’t matter, as long as I call this next number and it’s him.
James dialed the number and the phone rang a few times.
“Hello?” a man answered.
“Xander Stevens?”
“Who is this? How did you get this number?”
Bring The Pain_An Urban Fantasy Action Adventure Page 7