James threw the knife at the man’s head. Half of the blade vanished, but the rest bounced to the ground, hissing and glowing red.
“You know what I think?” he growled. “I think you fuckers just shot my truck up. It’s a classic. Parts are hard to find. You even used a fucking fireball.”
The wizard threw up his free hand. “Hey, I don’t do that kind of magic, so you can’t blame me. I’m just here for Julius. Shit, I don’t even need his body. Just drag him out so I can verify he’s dead and I’m out of here.”
James narrowed his eyes, the roar of his pulse quieting. He stepped toward the man, and the wizard stepped backward.
“No,” the bounty hunter rumbled, “this is how this shit’s gonna go. You’re gonna put that wand down and run the fuck away, or I’m gonna kill you. Then I’m gonna march over to Julius and call the damned police, and they’ll come and pick him up.”
The wizard laughed, but the fear in his eyes undermined it. “You can’t win, Brownstone. You can’t even hit me. Don’t you get it?”
James grinned. “Then why do you look so fucking afraid, and why do you keep trying to get me to leave?” He spread his arms out. “Shoot me, asshole. You just gave a big speech about me being hurt. Fucking finish me off. Become famous as the man who killed the Granite Ghost.”
The criminal’s face twitched, and his free hand drifted toward his jacket.
James reached slowly for his gun. “You made the same mistake a lot of fuckers do. You assumed that I was tough but a dumbass.”
The wizard shook his head. “No. I’m giving you the chance to walk away.”
“No fucking way.” James let out a low growl. “You run me off the road, and you shoot my truck up. You were dead from the moment you woke up this morning. You just didn’t realize it.”
The wizard swallowed.
Wait for it.
The wizard went for his gun. His wand dipped, along with the shimmering mass of air, and James pulled his trigger three times. The wizard’s body jerked with each shot before he fell backward, gun and wand falling to the ground.
James marched over to the man. The wizard coughed up blood, blinking up at the bounty hunter with shock on his face.
“I’ve fought plenty of guys with all sorts of magical defenses.” James shook his head. “Guys who were only immune to guns, and guys with all-purpose shields. Your problem was that you let me know it was directional. You didn’t take a single shot at me with that shield up, and you couldn’t hide your fear. I could smell it.”
The wizard coughed up more blood. “What the fuck?” he whispered. “Are you a damned wolf or something?”
“Yeah, I’m ‘or something.’” James put three more shots into the wizard’s head and holstered his gun. “That’s for my fucking truck, asshole.”
He shook his head and stomped toward the bullet-riddled vehicle. He threw open the back door to find Julius groaning, blood all over the seat.
“You’re not dying after all that.”
James pulled a healing potion out and downed the contents before grabbing one for a human. He turned Julius over and poured the potion down his throat. The whiner was still breathing, so the magic should be enough to keep him alive.
The bounty’s wounds closed, but his face remained pale. “I got shot. It fucking hurt.”
James grunted. “Big fucking deal, so did I. Stop bitching about it.” He glared at all the bodies and shook his head. There was no easy potion to pour over his truck.
Julius stared at the dead wizard. “Shit, those guys definitely work for the Eyes.
“Yeah, one of the guys said so.” James shrugged.
“Fuck my life.”
“They’re all dead now, so who gives a fuck?” James whipped out his phone. He thought about calling a Currus, but there was still the risk of another attack, so he dialed Mack instead.
The phone rang three times before the sergeant answered. “Hey, James, I got your text about finding Carver. You almost back?”
James stared at one of the flattened tires on his truck. “I need you to send someone to pick us up. We got ambushed by a bunch of assholes who worked for the Eyes.”
“Damn it.” Mack sighed. “You okay? What about Carver?”
“I’m fine, and he’s fine. He got hit a few times, but I had a healing potion.” James growled. “The fuckers shot up my truck.”
A car slowed, and the driver looked their way. After a few seconds, he sped away.
What, never seen a bunch of dead guys before? You live in fucking LA.
“I’m sorry. I know how much you love that truck,” Mack replied. “I’ll make sure a unit comes and gets you.”
“Never mind.” James watched the car speed away down the road. “I’m pretty sure a bunch of cops will be showing up very soon.”
You shouldn’t have gone after me in my truck, Eyes. First things first: I’m gonna get my truck fixed, then I’m gonna drive it to your place and have a one-way discussion with you about respecting classic vehicles.
Chapter Eight
Shay stepped behind her lectern and nodded toward the massive screen displaying an image of the Great Pyramid of Giza behind her. Students and a few professors packed the lecture hall, most leaning forward with eager interest on their faces.
“In conclusion, I want to thank you for taking time out of your busy schedules to attend this lecture on the use of pyramids for energy collection by the ancient Atlanteans.” Shay smiled. “If you leave this hall retaining only a few key concepts, please appreciate the malleability of so-called expert historical truth and how the Atlantean imperial efforts, despite their advanced magical techniques, weren’t fundamentally different from imperial efforts in the non-magical ancient world. The weapons changed, but the ideas were the same: influence, power, and control. I’d argue that as magic becomes better integrated into modern Earth and technology advances, the same patterns will repeat themselves. Again, thank you for attending.”
Light clapping filled the hall for a half minute before petering out. The attendees rose and filed out, murmuring among themselves.
Peyton’s right. The raids are getting farther apart. My excuse for not teaching a regular class was that I needed to keep my schedule open, even if the dean doesn’t know about my day job, but maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing to settle into something more permanent.
Shay was nodding to herself, considering the possibility, when a pale redhead with a chignon and a suit much too expensive for a college professor made her way from the back row. The woman oozed wealth, from her suit to the diamond earrings and a ruby pendant around her delicate neck. The only odd touch was a simple silver bracelet on her left wrist.
Old family heirloom? Doesn’t fit with the rest of your outfit, lady.
Despite her expensive clothing and jewelry, the woman’s movement lacked the elegance Shay would have expected from a wealthy socialite. There was a confidence in her stride that looked almost military.
Huh. Maybe she’s a vet. Pretty face, and smooth. Can’t really tell; she could be anything from her twenties to her forties, depending on the kind of plastic surgery or magic she’s been using.
The woman continued toward Shay with a slight smile on her face. “Professor Carson, I’m sorry to bother you, but could I have a minute of your time?”
“What did you need? You don’t look like a student.” Shay looked her up and down. She couldn’t recall ever seeing this woman on campus or around the department.
The woman chuckled and rubbed the silver bracelet. A nervous tic, perhaps.
“No, I haven’t been a student for a while. My name is Erin North.”
Shay furrowed her brow. “Erin North. I’ve heard that name before, but I can’t remember where. Are you involved in archaeology or revised history?”
Maybe she’s a rich woman who doles out grants? I should pay more attention in the departmental meetings.
Erin shook her head. “I wear a lot of hats, you could say, but my pri
mary interest lies in running the Global Empathy Foundation.”
Shay arched a brow. “Wait, as in that refugee resettlement charity?”
Erin smiled warmly. “Yes. I take great pride in our work. One would think with the return of magic to Earth that humans would stop finding reasons to kill each other, but as long as wars continue and innocents suffer, it’s important for those with resources and power to take care of those who can’t take care of themselves.”
“You do admirable work, Ms. North.”
“Please call me Erin, Professor Carson.”
“I don’t like unbalanced titles. Just call me Shay. Not to be rude, but what do you need from me exactly? I don’t think my expertise in history would be very helpful in your work unless you want the depressing news that I think your charity will need to be around until the sun dies.”
A brief flash of something like melancholy played across Erin’s face. “I don’t need to be an expert in ancient history to know that you’re right, but my interest in you isn’t about the future. It’s the past.” She pointed at the screen. “Ancient Atlantis, in particular.”
“Okay, you’ve got my attention.” Shay grinned. “I do love talking about the past and how we spent thousands of years getting it wrong.”
Erin placed her palms together and smiled. “Excellent. Perhaps we could talk over a late lunch? I wanted to discuss the possibility of hiring you as an advisor for a special project, but I have a bit of a quirk where I can only truly get to know a person when I see them eating.”
“Not drunk?”
The other woman shook her head. “Not as such. I’m more than happy to pay for wine if you want.”
Shay shook her head. “I don’t drink during the day. Like to keep a clear head…just in case.”
“In case a student surprises you with a question?” Erin raised an eyebrow.
“Among other things.” Shay shrugged. “Let’s go grab some lunch.”
Things have changed when I have socialites instead of hitmen seeking me out.
During the short limousine ride, Erin didn’t talk about the job offer. Instead, she focused on relating the successes and failures of her charity, including highlighting the continuing refugee situation all over Earth. Apparently, one of her chief concerns now was trying to reach out to Oriceran for potential resettlement of Earth refugees.
The idea made a strange kind of sense to Shay. Oriceran had its problems, but they’d demonstrated a better ability to keep things under control than Earth had for most of the last ten thousand years.
The conversation didn’t turn away from the charity and refugees until they were at the restaurant and Shay was halfway through her antipasto.
“What do you think about power and responsibility, Shay?” Erin inquired.
Shay swallowed a bite of artichoke heart and shrugged. “What about them? I believe the only thing that keeps people in power responsible is other people with power checking their power. Everything we’ve learned about Oriceran history reinforces that, too.”
Erin picked up her cup of tea and took a sip. “So there’s no hope, then? No way to break the cycle? Even with so many intelligent species?”
“I don’t know about that.” Shay shrugged. “I’m not all that impressed with the so-called intelligence most species have shown, but I can also say that most civilizations have produced grand things in addition to the horrors and wars. Who knows?”
“It sounds to me like you do have some hope.” Erin set her cup down and placed her hands in her lap beneath the table. “Perhaps it’s simply a matter of dealing with the most aggressive among us. After all, one can look at recent Earth history. Man invented the nuclear bomb and has managed to not use it again.”
Shay laughed. “Only because people are afraid of the other side. I don’t know if I’d call mutually assured destruction a great example of the glories of intelligence and empathy.”
“Mutually assured destruction?” Erin shrugged. “Why not? It arguably kept Oriceran at peace for millennia. That’s what you were saying earlier: the only thing that keeps people in power responsible is other people with power.”
This woman may be the rich head of a charity, but I can’t tell if she’s naïve or even more cynical than me.
Shay opened her mouth to respond but closed it. Something in the back of her mind screamed that something was unnatural and wrong. Her killer instincts and tomb raider experience flowed together to kick her heart rate up.
She had slipped her hand into her purse and rested it on the gun inside when she finally realized what it was: silence.
Diners filled the room, chatting, laughing and eating, but she couldn’t hear any of it anymore.
Another CIA agent? If so, why the game? I don’t see a cube.
Erin tilted her head, a thin smile on her face. “You seem tense, Shay.”
“You obviously want a private conversation,” she replied, keeping her hand on the gun. “And you have the means to ensure that even in the middle of a public place, which means you’re a lot more than some woman running a charity.”
Erin picked up her tea and took another sip. “Wealth brings many possibilities, especially in the current world. Yes, I’ve taken measures to ensure our privacy because I doubted you would follow me anywhere less public, Aletheia.”
Shay narrowed her eyes. She considered pretending she had no idea what the name meant, but if Erin had the technology or magic to hide their conversation and already knew her tomb raider identity, a simple denial wouldn’t work. The woman had prepared for the encounter.
“Okay, let’s skip the bullshit then, shall we?” Shay snorted.
Erin chuckled. “Ah, the professor has vanished and the tomb raider has come out?”
“Something like that. I take it you don’t want to hire me for a historical consultation on Atlantis?”
Shay eased up on the gun. Whatever Erin had planned probably didn’t involve a major battle in public. It’d expose them both for what they were, and the wealthy woman had far more to lose than a woman who was officially dead.
The redhead leaned forward, her smile now more predatory than cheerful. “You’ve made a name for yourself in the tomb-raiding world rather quickly, if you think about it. You’re a natural who has shown up other tomb raiders with years more experience, and I need that talent to help me recover an artifact.”
“Why the game?” Shay shrugged. “If you know the name Aletheia, you could have contacted me through the internet.”
Erin shook her head. “I think I’m a good judge of people. It’s useful when dealing with a large international charity. I wanted to look you in the eye and talk to you to make sure you were appropriate for the job. Your reputation for delivery precedes you, but I had to be comfortable with my choice, given the dangers involved.”
“Not saying I’m going to take the job or not, but right now I don’t even know what the damned job is.” Shay frowned.
“It actually is Atlantean in nature.” Erin shrugged. “An Atlantean artifact hidden in some Khmer ruins in Cambodia. They were only recently discovered by remote imaging in the jungle. It remains unclear if they were hidden using magic, but that’s a strong possibility.”
“What ruins? I pay a lot of attention to that kind of thing, and I haven’t heard anything about that.”
Erin laughed and shook her head. “You don’t understand, Shay. When I say recently discovered, I don’t mean months or weeks. I mean days. Some of my money is funding certain space and magical archaeology efforts, so I had access to this information in a timely manner, along with previous information that indicated that an Atlantean artifact had been hidden in that area in ruins that are dangerous; guarded by some sort of magical beasts that were put in the place to defend them.”
Shay stopped talking as the waiter arrived with the main course, pan-fried sea bass. He set the plates down, oblivious to the lack of noise.
“Thank you,” the women offered simultaneously.
The
waiter smiled and departed.
Shay returned her attention to Erin. “What’s the artifact?”
“A crystal lance,” Erin explained. “A weapon. It soaks up magical background energy to charge itself. According to my information, it was discharged a few thousand years ago and then became all but dormant, but with the return of full magic to Earth, it’s had decades to charge itself to unusual levels of power again.”
“Some sort of WMD?” Shay frowned.
The other woman shook her head. “No, not as such. It’s more that with increased charge, it gains the ability to pierce greater defenses. My understanding is that it was more a tool of assassination. Even the most powerful magical defense would fail after a few years of charging, and this thing has had thousands of years at low power and now decades at full power. It’s effectively an unstoppable weapon, and I worry about it being used to kill a prime minister or president or even an Oriceran leader, regardless of their magic. It might be used as a tool to plunge the worlds into more war in the wrong hands.” She frowned. “And the last thing either world needs is more war. More refugees.” Her face darkened. “I will do what is necessary to stop that.”
Erin leaned back, a distant look in her eyes.
Shay sighed. “You have a lot of money. You could send a whole team into those ruins.”
Erin shook her head. “We both know an improperly prepared team will get themselves killed. I’ve done my research, and your name has come up repeatedly. I need someone who I know won’t sell this thing to the highest bidder and also has the skills to get it. Not only that, I need someone who can move before it’s too late.”
“What’s the rush?” Shay shrugged. “I hadn’t heard about this site, so I doubt most other tomb raiders have.”
“If only that were true.” Erin frowned down at her fish, anger in her eyes. “My information suggests the United States government is seeking the lance. They’re employing a contractor, a mercenary tomb raider named Francois Durand. He’s definitely receiving guidance and payment from the American government, but it’s been hard for my people to find out much about him or his goals. Some of the previous artifacts he’s gone after don’t seem all that powerful, from what we can tell.” She looked up. “That lance can’t be given to any government. At least with nuclear weapons, other people had nukes. There is no mutually assured destruction in this scenario.”
One Epic Ring: An Urban Fantasy Action Adventure (The Unbelievable Mr. Brownstone Book 14) Page 7