One Epic Ring: An Urban Fantasy Action Adventure (The Unbelievable Mr. Brownstone Book 14)

by Michael Anderle

  Shay threw her head back and laughed. “Seriously? I knew you were coming before I ever took this job.”

  James’ gaze drifted among the mercenaries. Their weapons were all standard-issue AKs, but he couldn’t tell what type of ammunition they were using. Anti-magic bullets would get through Shay’s defenses even if they didn’t threaten him.

  The real problem was that the bastards were too spread out. A few well-tossed grenades would kill some on either side, but he’d only be able to charge one group, leaving the others to get shots off at Shay.

  Durand stared at the tomb raider, his eyes narrowed. “It doesn’t matter what you claim. It doesn’t take away from my victory.” His smile returned. “Because of the unusual nature of this particular encounter, I don’t have to kill you, even though you’ve proven so frustrating in the past.” He gestured for her to approach with his hand. “Give me the lance, and you walk away. Fight me, and you die, and I take it anyway.”

  Shay snorted and didn’t reply.

  James grunted. “Do you know who the fuck I am, asshole?”

  “Of course. The great James Brownstone. You are rather famous, after all.” Durand shrugged. “Although I’m surprised to see you working a tomb raid with Aletheia. Your presence here explains much of her success, I suppose.”

  Shay rolled her eyes. “Typical man; thinks another man’s responsible for a woman’s success. James wasn’t around the last few times we tangled, asshole, so fuck you.”

  Durand flicked his wrist dismissively. “I don’t care to argue feminism with you. Just hand over the lance, and we leave. Resist, and you die.” He nodded to the mercenaries. “Anti-magic deflectors and anti-magic bullets. It’ll cut right through that artifact you’re using. An angel ring, it looks like.” He snorted. “And whatever you use as well, bounty hunter.”

  Keep telling yourself that, asshole. You’re in for a big fucking surprise.

  James gritted his teeth, and his fist clenched. He ached to smash Durand’s face in.

  “Why are you even here?” Shay asked. She dropped the lance to the ground and pointed at it. “For this?” She let her hand linger near a grenade on her belt. “This shit isn’t alien, it’s Atlantean. The only writing I found was Sanskrit. Yeah, there was some shit about a divine messenger, but everything in there is consistent with Oriceran influence rather than alien technology. This is standard-issue revised history, nothing special.”

  A few of the mercenaries exchanged confused looks.

  “What, Durand didn’t key you into the fact that he’s an alien hunter on the side?” James asked.

  Durand snorted. “It doesn’t matter. They’ve been well-compensated for their aid. Their understanding wasn’t necessary.” His gaze drifted to Shay. “As for why I’m here, not everything is about the American government and their little schemes. Their contracts and rules can be cumbersome at times, and when such an excellent opportunity all but falls into one’s lap, one cannot ignore it, now can one?” He sighed and shook his head. “I’d hoped to spare you, Aletheia, out of a modicum of professional respect, but it’s obvious that won’t be a possibility. Besides, it’ll be useful to me on those government jobs. You’re a nuisance and a loose end, and you’ve interfered with my work far too many times. It was a mistake to offer you a deal.”

  Shay snorted and rolled her eyes. “Done with the speech, asshole?”

  James’ heart rate kicked up, and he glared at Durand.

  Anger, Whispy sent. Hate. Yes.

  The bounty hunter took a single menacing step forward, and all the mercenaries swung their guns toward him.

  Good. Point them at me, assholes. This shit’s gonna be over soon for you. You picked the wrong fucking side.

  “Here’s how this is gonna go,” James growled. “If you want to have any fucking chance of surviving the next few minutes, you’re gonna tell your fucking men to drop their weapons, and then you’re gonna get on your knees and fucking beg Aletheia for her forgiveness. If not, I’ll rip your fucking head off and shove it down your throat, you fucking sonofabitch.”

  Durand arched an eyebrow and looked at James and Shay, a faint smirk on his face. “I see, Beauty controls the Beast after all. Fascinating and unexpected.”

  He pulled his pistol out. Something was off. The front barrel was too small. It couldn’t even fire .22 bullets at that size.

  James furrowed his brow. A magic gun, maybe?

  Shay’s face tightened. “I’m gonna enjoy killing you, Durand.”

  Durand smiled at her and turned to James. “You’re powerful, Brownstone. Only a fool would deny that, but you’re not a god. You’re not even Oriceran, so you will die now.” He pulled the trigger.

  Bright blue-white energy blasted from the barrel and smashed into James.

  “James!” Shay shouted.

  The blast spread across his chest, burning through his coat and shirt and exposing the top of his amulet. Despite that, the impressive display only stung him. His skin reddened, but the injury looked like nothing more than a mild sunburn.

  Have I been shot by that kind of thing before? Wait, is it the same kind of energy as that grenade in Vegas?

  Yes. Minimum adaption potential. Kill enemy.

  Oh, I’m gonna fucking kill him, all right.

  James grunted. “Was that supposed to hurt?”

  Shay burst out laughing.

  Durand blinked, shock covering his face before his practiced smirk wiped the expression away. “Your artifact is impressive, Brownstone, for you to take a direct hit from this weapon.” He snorted. “There are many problems with this gun, but I’d assumed it could put you down. Never trust the CIA to design a gun. It’s all flash and no practicality.” He frowned. “Then again, it could use a second test.” His hand jerked up to aim the gun at Shay.

  James threw himself in front of her as Durand pulled the trigger. Another blast struck James, more a tingle than sting this time. Before he’d hit the ground, he yanked the two grenades off his belt and threw them at both formations of mercs. They shouted and scattered, a few on the edges opening fire.

  The bounty hunter landed on the ground as bullets rained down on him. Two more grenades hurled by Shay flew overhead as the first two exploded, their deadly fragments ripping into a handful of the gathered men, their anti-matter deflectors useless against conventional explosives.

  James hopped up as Shay’s rifle came to life and put down a couple more men. He let out a low growl and jerked his head back and forth in search of Durand. His pulse thundered in his ears, and the din of automatic weapons fire barely registered when he found his prey backing away, a reddish glow now surrounding him.

  Doesn’t matter if you have a fucking artifact, Durand. I’m gonna cut you in half.

  Durand’s eyes narrowed as James’ own found them. The other man pulled out a small white pebble and glared. After a few seconds, he hurled it toward James.

  James grunted as the pebble struck him. White bolts arched through him and he collapsed to the ground, his flesh sizzling and his clothes smoking. His muscles spasmed a few times.

  Adaptation and regeneration in progress, Whispy reported.

  Shay shouted something and held her trigger down, raking death across the remaining mercenaries. A few took the rounds in bulletproofs vest and survived, but her high aim found the much softer skulls of several. Her quick adjustment finished off the survivors on one side.

  James didn’t care that Durand had managed to hurt him, but the bastard had tried to kill Shay. He needed to pay. He needed to die for that alone.

  He roared as the surviving mercenaries fired bursts at him, their bullets stinging now only because of his existing wounds.

  Kill the enemy, Whispy insisted. Achieve primary directive.

  James bellowed and pushed himself to his feet, his chest charred around the amulet. It took him a few seconds to comprehend the pain trying to push through the anger in his mind. Even without the anger, Whispy’s euphoria made it hard to worry about
such petty concerns as extensive burns all over his body.

  Sufficient power for advanced transformation, Whispy reported.

  Green-silver tendrils shot from the amulet and covered James’ chest, arms, and legs. Claws sprang from both hands, and a blade extended from his right arm. The mercenaries kept up their fire, their bullets going from stinging his burned skin to bouncing off his armor without him feeling anything.

  Advanced regeneration in progress.

  Durand threw another pebble. It struck James’ chest again, the white bolts bursting from the point of impact, but not making it past his armor.

  Nice try, but it’s time for you to die.

  James rushed forward and swung his blade to decapitate a nearby mercenary. He raked another with his claws, then ripped his throat out. The closest men backed up and continued to spray him with bullets, fear creeping into their eyes.

  Yet another pebble struck James, followed by a blast from Durand’s pistol. He growled. A mercenary near him turned and ran, only for one of Shay’s bullets to rip through his neck a second later.

  James stomped toward Durand. He was the enemy, and the enemy needed to die.

  Yes, yes, kill the enemy, Whispy commanded.

  Durand yanked a black rod out of his pocket and pulled on both ends, exposing a silver core. “You can’t win against this, Brownstone. It’s not human. It’s not Oriceran. If you’re Aletheia’s lover, then you know other aliens have come here, aliens with technology well beyond our own. I don’t want to waste this, but I will if necessary.”

  James didn’t care what the fucker had to say. The asshole wouldn’t be able to talk once he cut his fucking head off. He continued his advance.

  “Fine,” Durand shouted. “What a waste.”

  Durand hurled the extended rod toward James. The core shattered and splattered metallic gray particles over his chest.

  Durand laughed. “You’re going to be ripped apart atom by atom, Brownstone. They’re going to turn you into raw materials.”

  Nanites detected. Moderate adaptation in progress.

  James’ armor began to sizzle, and a few seconds later a bright green pulse blasted from it. The silver particles blackened and fell to the ground.

  Nanites neutralized.

  Durand shook his head. “No, no, no. It’s not possible!” He rattled off something in French. “I’ve seen it work. There’s no way you could beat such advanced alien technology.”

  James continued his advance, offering his enemy nothing more than a grunt.

  A few bullets zoomed past him and struck the French contractor but bounced off with no noticeable change in the red glow around him.

  Durand backed up, looking more surprised than afraid. “What kind of monster are you, Brownstone, that you can survive something like that?” He eyes widened, and he laughed. “Oh, it makes sense now. It makes perfect sense. You were hiding in plain sight the entire time. No wonder Aletheia cared so much about alien artifacts.” Even as he continued backing up, he smiled. “We’re at an impasse, Brownstone. I can’t hurt you, and I doubt you can get past the magical field I’m now using. Trust me, its history is impressive in who it has saved. Still, it’s rare that I’m pushed this far and have to rely on such petty tricks, so you should be proud.”

  James let out a bellow of rage. Heavy breathing made him turn and almost slash out with his blade, only to stop himself at the last moment at the sight of Shay rushing forward, her hands wrapped around the lance.

  Kill the enemy, Whispy chanted. Kill the enemy. Kill the enemy.

  James held himself in place as Shay sprinted toward them. His hate-soaked mind dimly registered that her glowing aura was gone and blood covered her clothes.

  He roared and turned around in search of mercenaries to eviscerate, but only dead bodies lay behind him. He returned his attention to Durand. There was still someone he could punish for daring to touch his woman.

  But that same woman was screaming like a maenad and rushing toward Durand with an ancient and powerful magic weapon. Shay completed her charge, the lance piercing Durand’s heart. A second later a massive crackling blast of energy blasted from the tip of the weapon, blowing the man to pieces before he even had time to look surprised.

  Shay blinked and looked at what remained of her nemesis. “Well, shit. That was a bit over the top even for me.” She laughed.

  Kill the enemy, Whispy continued. Kill the enemy. Kill the enemy.

  Shay looked at James with a smile. “Looks like we...win.” She narrowed her eyes. “Shit, are you with me, James?”

  James stared at her, his heart continuing to thunder and bloodlust bouncing around his mind.

  Kill the enemy. Kill the enemy. Kill the enemy.

  Shay dropped the lance to the ground and shook her head. “Come back to me, James Brownstone. I’m not done with you yet. We both know you still owe me something.”

  Kill the enemy, Whispy shouted in his mind.

  James growled.

  Shut the fuck up, or I’ll drop you in a volcano. You ever try to get me to kill her again, you’ll see who the real enemy is.

  Link error acknowledged. Entering reversion and quiescence.

  The blade retracted, and the armor flowed back into the amulet. James hissed as the individual tendrils left his body. He grabbed Whispy and pulled it off his chest. Several long, deep breaths followed.

  Shay picked the lance up and rested the shaft on the ground. “Erin didn’t say anything about me preserving the charge. It probably works out better that way, considering what she wanted to use it for.” She looked at Durand. “Stupid asshole should have never fucked with me.”

  James sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. “You okay? You look like you got shot.”

  “I did, but a potion made it better.” Shay shrugged. “Damn, this was a good day. We wasted dozens of mercs, Durand’s now jungle food, and I’ll soon be making a forty-million-dollar delivery. It feels good to be such a badass tomb raider.”

  James sighed. “Shay, about what just happened…”

  Shay threw up a hand. “Nothing happened. I don’t give a shit about possibilities, I give a shit about what actually occurs. You came back to me when it counts, and that’s all I’ll ever care about.” She rested the lance on her shoulder. “Now let’s get the hell out of here.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Shay waited in the narrow alley. According to the text she’d just received, her contact would arrive at any moment.

  A van with tinted windows pulled up behind her, and a tanned man in a suit stepped out of the front passenger side door. He walked toward Shay’s rental sedan, frowning. She rolled down the window.

  She’d considered bringing James along for the drop-off, but the last thing she needed was some random middleman seeing Aletheia with James Brownstone. Peyton might think she didn’t need to keep a low profile, but she remained unconvinced.

  Her blond wig, oversized sunglasses, colored contacts, and face putty would be enough to help her defeat basic facial recognition if the man took a picture of her without her noticing.

  The man walked up to her window. “Our mutual friend from the south sends her regards.”

  Shay resisted a snicker. Everyone had their own preferred ways to verify things. Since Erin was paying forty million dollars, the least the tomb raider could do is indulge her, especially since the client didn’t demand DNA.

  “But the north is always a better direction,” Shay replied.

  The man nodded.

  She reached into the backseat and grabbed the linen-wrapped lance with one hand, keeping her other hand on her gun in the seat next to her. “Deliver the money and you can have the goods.”

  “Don’t be concerned.” The man nodded and held up his hands. “I’m a wizard, and I’m going to pull out a wand.”

  Shay narrowed her eyes. What kind of idiot announced an ambush?

  “What the fuck?” She tightened her grip on her gun, which was hidden by the door.

&
nbsp; “I need to verify that you have the correct artifact,” he explained, face tight. “I know the signature to check for. Once I confirm it, I’ll signal my partner in the van and the money will be sent to your account as previously agreed.”

  “Fine.” Shay narrowed her eyes. “But try anything and you’ll get to experience Atlantean magic firsthand, just like I did on the job.”

  The wizard blinked. “You actually used it?”

  “Yeah, mercs led by Francois Durand showed up, just like your employer was worried about.” Shay shrugged. “I did us both a favor and got rid of him.”

  “Oh, yes, Durand.” The wizard furrowed his brow. “Wait, you used it on him?”

  Shay nodded. “Yep. Blew him apart. Literally. Pretty impressive.”

  The wizard paled. “Oh.”

  Shay smirked and nodded at the lance. “Get on with the verification unless you want me to go into more detail about what he looked like after I used it.”

  The wizard swallowed, then reached into his jacket slowly and removed his wand. He raised it and muttered an incantation. A glowing and pulsating sphere grew in front of him, its shape distorting over several seconds.

  He nodded, and the sphere disappeared. After slipping his wand back into his jacket, he nodded to the van.

  A few seconds later, Shay’s phone beeped. She glanced down at it and spotted the confirmation of the money transfer.

  She blew out a breath. “Nothing like that feeling of getting paid.”

  Shay handed the wrapped lance to the wizard. He held it gingerly, a mix of fear and awe on his face.

  She snorted. “It doesn’t matter how old it is or who made it. In the end, it’s just another fancy weapon. You let yourself be impressed by that kind of thing, then you’re always going to lose to it.”

  The wizard sniffed disdainfully. “I wouldn’t expect someone like you to understand, tomb raider. Magic’s not just a paycheck to all of us.”

  Shay smirked. “Doubt you’re working for your employer for free, now are you?”

  The wizard sneered. He pivoted on his heel and marched toward the van, then threw open the back door and set the lance inside before closing it and climbing back into the front passenger seat.