The Horsemen Gather: An Urban Fantasy Action Adventure (The Unbelievable Mr. Brownstone Book 17)

by Michael Anderle

  “I know, and that’s what I’m worried about.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Peyton swallowed. “Remember when I told you about that alleged map database glitch I found a while back, concerning a surprisingly underreported major accident that pretty much wiped out an entire small town?”

  “Yeah,” Shay replied. “You thought it was some sort of coverup and that the government bombed a town to hide something, but then did everything they could to keep attention away from it. It’s possible, but what’s that have to do with anything?”

  Peyton nodded. “I don’t have proof, but I was able to connect it at least a little to some of this alien hunting. It might be they destroyed a town to hide the truth of aliens.”

  “They’re ruthless assholes, but that’s hardly news. What’s your point?”

  Peyton stared at Shay and sighed. No matter how much she’d softened with all the talk of marriage and her new job, her ruthless steel core remained. It was as impressive as it was frightening. He could barely think about the idea of rogue US government factions killing American citizens to cover up a secret without shaking a little, but it was nothing more than another Wednesday for Shay.

  I could have said they were hiding the Dread Lord Cthulhu in there and she probably would have just said, “Oh, let’s go get James and kick his fucking tentacle-face back into the ocean.”

  “I’m just saying,” the hacker began slowly, waving his hands in front of him, “that the kind of people who’ll destroy an entire town and kill hundreds of people to hide a secret won’t have a problem killing a much smaller number.” He pointed to himself and then her. “Like you and me, for instance. That’s just two people. Team Aletheia isn’t exactly an army, even if you count Lily and Osiris.”

  Shay snorted. “They better get me with their first bomb if they want to have any sort of fucking chance.” She held up her hand with her jade ring. “Because my man got me something both pretty and practical.” She headed toward the door. “At least this gives you something to do, but don’t freak out. Just keep an eye on things. I’ll let James know, and we’ll play it by ear.”

  Chapter Seven

  James’ phone chimed as he was about to sit in his recliner, and he grunted and pulled it out of his pocket. Unfortunate timing was forever destined to be his enemy; the one enemy he couldn’t defeat with the gratuitous application of bullets, knives, or Forerunner blades.

  Thomas poked his head up and cocked it, but set it down again once he realized it was a text and not something more interesting.

  “Couldn’t have beeped one second earlier?” James muttered. “This better not be my fucking phone company trying to make me sign up for a new plan. I thought I made that shit clear to them last time. Assholes don’t have anything better to do than bother me at home.”

  NEW LA COUNTY BOUNTY ALERT: (LEVEL FOUR) ****

  James grunted in pleased surprise. Things had been a little quiet, so this would be a nice change of pace.

  Huh. I set those alerts up, but I never expected to get a hit so soon after the last one. Someone’s a brave fucker to come poking his nose in Los Angeles when I’m not on vacation. Maybe the idiot doesn’t know I’m in town. Let’s see what we’ve got.

  James opened the message app to check out the details for the new bounty. The level-four bounty belonged to one Gavin Vanders, a wizard who apparently liked using his powerful magic for bizarrely low-scale robberies of restaurants and bars. The small amounts stolen didn’t match up with his abilities or the brutal murders accompanying many of the robberies. In his last robbery, he’d executed a waitress and a cook even though no one had tried to resist or call the cops.

  Some fucker who gets off on hurting people. I think I should teach him a thing or two about what it means to hurt someone.

  James continued reading the bounty notice. There was nothing to indicate that the bounty wouldn’t be anything James couldn’t handle. Vanders was a strong wizard and a specialist in a so-called “null magic,” but from what James could tell, in practical terms that just meant he aimed a wand at people and burned holes through them with a shadow ray.

  He’d had more than a few holes burned through him in recent years. A shadow null ray would be a nice change of pace.

  Huh. Not quite sure what that shit is, but it sounds different enough that Whispy will be happy. Almost worth going after this asshole for that alone, let alone the money or the fact this guy is such a worthless murdering shitbag. This will be almost as satisfying as that mind-control sonofabitch. Cocky murderer made a big mistake coming to my town.

  According to the bounty notice, Gavin traveled with an entourage, which was one of the reasons the authorities suspected he was on his way to, if not already in, LA. Having too many people with him made it hard for him to travel without someone running their mouth. The new notice also meant the PDA and AET would be on the lookout. If James took too long, he might lose his chance.

  “Huh,” James murmured, another possibility arising in his mind. “I could use the exercise, and Whispy could use some more adaptation, but this might also be good practice for the guys. This shit seems perfect for a few guys with anti-magic deflectors and anti-magic bullets. Nothing in here about him using mind control or illusions.”

  He pondered the thought for a good half-minute. Training at Fort Shorty was one thing, but nothing replaced practical experience when it came to learning how to handle magical threats. The next time something like the Council arose, the men needed to be ready, and if they came at Vanders and his crew in force, they could win. James had no doubt about that.

  He stared down at the phone and shook his head. It was called the Brownstone Agency, and he already let the agency handle all level three and lower bounties. If he started giving them all of the level fours, at the rate things were going in Los Angeles, he might get one decent bounty a year. That was bullshit, and it was good to lead from the front. Royce and Maria were always saying so.

  Besides, even if James started Brownstone BBQ and left full-time bounty hunting, he would still want semi-regular ass-kicking action. Sometimes a man just needed to punch some bastard to relax.

  Fuck it. This guy’s got a very punchable face. If it’s not annoying as fuck to find the guy, I’ll take him down myself. If not, I’ll leave it to the guys or the cops. Just need to see if this is gonna be easy or hard, and I know one way to do that.

  James slipped his phone back in his pocket and grabbed his jacket. It was time for some old-fashioned running down a bounty, starting with a trip to the Black Sun.

  Tyler offered James his standard constipated expression as the bounty hunter entered. It only made James want to bust the other man’s balls harder.

  At least he hasn’t tried any weird-ass tricks in a while. He might bitch about us not being friends, but he acts like we are. Don’t know how I feel about that shit.

  The bar was packed, mostly with gang members, only a light smattering of higher-class criminals. A few cops nodded at him from the bar. The loud conversation didn’t quiet when James entered. It wasn’t like the old days. No one had any reason to fear him just stepping inside the building.

  I wasn’t sure Tyler would be able to maintain the neutrality, but he’s done a good job. Only a few problems since he established it. Got to give him credit for that shit. I wouldn’t have thought of it. Still not sure if it’s the best thing for the city or the cops, but AET are the ones maintaining it, so they must think it’s a pretty good idea. Or maybe they like the idea of people being forced to respect them with other criminals around?

  James gave the cops a polite nod before making eye contact with Tyler and gesturing toward the hallway. He wasn’t there for a drink, and if the other man was helpful, he’d earn far more than a nice twenty percent tip. The information broker rolled his eyes as he stepped out from behind the bar.

  “This is my place, Brownstone, not yours,” Tyler remarked after James walked close enough that he didn’t have to raise his
voice. “It’s not like you get to come in here and order me around. It makes me look weak. And this isn’t the White Sun. The neutrality here is maintained by the cops, not you. Keep that in mind. There’s only so much of your shit I need to put up with.”

  “Sorry.” James shrugged. “I thought you liked money. I can take my money somewhere else where people bitch less.”

  “I do like money,” Tyler responded, uncertainty on his face.

  James shrugged. “If you have the information I need, it’ll be an easy and generous payday. I’m kind of in a hurry. Or you can keep bitching about how I hurt your fucking feelings, and you can go into the bathroom and cry about it until you’re ready to man up and do your fucking job.”

  Tyler grumbled under his breath and headed down the hall toward his office, flipping off James the entire way. A few people looked their way, but most people were smart enough to mind their own damned business in a place like the Black Sun. The neutrality didn’t mean they couldn’t earn a target on their backs.

  No criminal wanted to attract James’ or the cops’ attention. Neither would tag them in the building or the parking lot, but it wasn’t like they couldn’t track a person down later if they were given sufficient reason.

  The smarter criminals kept their lackeys in line accordingly. The cops, in turn, made sure not to taunt anyone while they were there. Everyone concentrated on enjoying their drinks and bar food.

  Tyler opened the door and entered his office. He waited for James to come in and close the door.

  “Let me guess,” Tyler began, settling behind his desk with a frown. “Since you came barging in here all of a sudden, this must be about Gavin Vanders coming to town. I doubt you give a shit about any of the other losers I’ve heard about lately.”

  James didn’t bother to sit. “Yeah. I want the guy who thinks it’s funny to kill waitresses. We’re gonna have a little chat about fucking respect.”

  “So you want to know where he is?”

  “Yeah.” James grunted. “Don’t try to feed me any shit about level fours and higher getting special respect and treatment from you. Level fours and higher rarely come to LA anymore. The only person you need to worry about pissing off is me, and we both know it. Not only that, but this guy’s a real piece of shit.”

  Tyler snorted. “They’re all pieces of shit, Brownstone. That’s why they ended up with bounties.”

  James grunted. “Then tell me where the fucker is.”

  Tyler’s lips curled into a sneer. “That’s just it, Brownstone. I’m a businessman. I don’t work for free in most circumstances.”

  “So?” James frowned. “I’ll pay you. I always do.”

  “You’ve scared off most of the high-level trouble, and it’s cutting into my profits,” Tyler explained. “People don’t want to pay as much money for tips about the low-level losers, and I’ve become accustomed to a certain lifestyle. Fuck, it’s even harder to impress Maria because she makes more money working for you than she did as a cop. Thanks for that, by the way.”

  “And I should care about any of this shit?”

  Tyler nodded. “Yes, because it affects you. I’m going to need to make up some of those lost profits off you. I think that’s fair.”

  “How the fuck are you going to do that?” James rumbled.

  Tyler’s sneer transformed into a smirk. “By charging you four times my normal fee for the information.”

  James grunted. “If you can give me his location today, I don’t give a shit. I’ll pay your fee. It’s a lot of money to you. It’s not a lot of money to me.”

  Tyler’s eyes widened, the greed almost visible, and he ignored the insult. “Really? Four times?”

  “Yeah. But today.”

  “Shit.” Tyler snapped his fingers. “I should have asked for five times as much.”

  “Give me his location in the next five minutes, and I’ll give you five times your normal fee,” James replied. “Like I said, I’m in a hurry. I’m only interested in this shit if it’s not too annoying, but also because this guy’s a real piece of shit. I don’t want him killing someone because he gets bored, so if I’m not the one tracking him down, then I need to send my guys after him right away.”

  Tyler laughed and pulled out his phone. “This is where being a proactive genius helps. I know exactly where he’ll be for the next few hours, and it’s not a restaurant. You serious about paying five times my normal fee?” He eyed James with suspicion.

  “Yeah. I like it when shit’s simple, and I’m willing to pay for convenience. The only witch I have in the agency is in Vegas, and I doubt Vanders has made himself easy to track anyway.” James grabbed his own phone and initiated a TrollCoin transfer for the amount. “That enough?”

  Tyler stared at his phone, grinning when it chimed. “Thanks for the business, Brownstone. What’s the problem? Bored and desperate, so you need someone’s ass to kick? Half the guys you run down are killers, and you’re not normally in such a hurry.”

  James shrugged. “The asshole’s a dirtbag, and I want to test some shit out anyway.”

  “’Test some shit out?’” Tyler shook his head and tapped on his phone. “I almost feel sorry for the poor bastard. Almost. Sending you the address now.”

  James didn’t bother to park his F-350 in the lot, instead pulling right up to the front of the seedy dance club, The Second Circle. The stylized red-orange letters spelling out the name had been designed to mimic flames.

  The thumping bass from inside the club already annoyed him. He hated having to take assholes down in places like this.

  Huh. If I end up in actual Hell, it’ll probably be some shit like this, and offering me a tray of ribs I can never reach.

  Shay loved dance clubs, but if someone came out and told James they were a twisted Oriceran plot designed to fuck humans up, he wouldn’t have been surprised.

  Why do people subject themselves to that shit? They really hate being able to hear?

  James opened the driver’s door, jumped down, and headed toward the huge bouncer. A few other people waiting to get in backed away when they saw him, although a few others took pictures with eager smiles.

  The bouncer frowned and stared at James. It was rare that a human managed to make James look small, but as far as the bounty hunter was concerned, that just made the bouncer a larger and easier-to-hit target if he needed to beat his ass. He didn’t mind a man doing his job, but he didn’t have time for bullshit.

  James marched toward the door. The bouncer interposed himself between James and his destination, his meaty palm out.

  “Whoa there, freakface,” the bouncer commanded with a frown. “Do we look like the kind of place that has fucking valet parking for your piece-of-shit truck?” He snorted and pointed at the truck. “And this isn’t some club for cowboys or whatever the fuck you’re supposed to be with that ugly-ass duster. So why don’t you yippee-kai-fucking-away across town?”

  James looked down at his gray coat. It did resemble a duster, but that was a thin fashion line to hang a cowboy insult on.

  Maybe I should be wearing dusters. Need more pockets, though.

  “I’m not a fucking cowboy, asshole,” James rumbled. “And respect my fucking truck. It’s a classic.”

  “You are whatever the fuck I say you are, cowboy, and I don’t give a shit about your ancient piece-of-shit truck.”

  James let out a low growl, but he let the insult pass. He was there for the bounty, not some random bouncer.

  The bouncer looked James up and down. “Wait, do I know you? I think I’ve seen you somewhere before. Did I kick your ass out of here before? Don’t think because you’ve got a few tats that I’m intimidated by your ass. I kicked some Russian Mafia guys out of here just the other night, and I’ve gone up against Kilomea and won.”

  So have I, and a lot worse.

  James glared at the man. “There’s a level-four bounty in your club right now by the name of Gavin Vanders. I’m gonna go in there, beat him down, and drag his a
ss out. You can help me get the people out of the club so I can go beat his ass down without anyone else getting hurt, or you can fucking piss me off to make a point while some murderous piece of shit dances inside with his fucking friends.”

  “I don’t think…” The bouncer winced and backed up. “Oh, shit, now I recognize you. You’re James Brownstone.”

  “Yeah.” James grunted. “Surprise, asshole.”

  The man put his hands in front of him. “We don’t need trouble, Brownstone. If you know he’s in here, can’t you just wait until he comes out and nail him then?”

  James pointed at the door. “Here’s what you’re gonna do. You’re gonna get everyone out of there, and because Vanders is an arrogant sonofabitch, he won’t run. I don’t want to wait around until his ass comes out. You’re going to go in there, tell the DJ to cut the music and then tell Vanders that James Brownstone is coming for him. Do we have an understanding?”

  The bouncer swallowed before offering a shallow nod and rushing inside the club.

  James reached under his shirt and pulled the metal separator off his amulet. His face twitched as the all-too-familiar hot pain of Whispy sinking into his chest and burrowing tendrils through it followed.

  Several people snapped pictures, but all they’d get for their efforts was a grimacing James because of his shirt. Enough people had seen the amulet to know he had a special artifact, but most still had no clue what it was or how it worked.

  Initiation, Whispy sent.

  Time for a little training, James responded.

  Chapter Eight

  James waited with a frown as people streamed out of the club, most in a hurry but none looking scared. Some of the departing people rushed by with their cameras up to snap pictures of him as they fled. One woman flashed him.