by John Ringo
Remi moved in like he’d always lived there. I went to the hot-tub. While I was in there, nude, he came out with delivery from the bento place, Mamoto’s. It was carefully arrayed on a china plate.
Pro-tip: If you’re an elite hunter, you make a lot of money killing monsters. Get support staff. You’re a specialist at monster killing. Let other people handle the little shit.
And get a freaking butler. They follow you around and take care of stuff like making sure your equipment stays in shape and you eat and drink and generally are supported. Don’t think of them as an extravagance. Think of them like the squires and pages of the Paladins. They’re there to take care of the little shit so, like Charlemagne’s Paladins, you can go do the job and not worry about it. Call them a “personal assistant” if it makes you feel better.
Of course, good help like that is hard to find these days. And he wasn’t cheap. But any really good hunter ends up making a packet off of monster killing and if you’re really busy you don’t have many ways to spend it. Get one who knows how to take care of guns, obviously.
There are worse ways to spend it than on someone to answer the door. Just make sure they know the protocols.
Remi knew most of them. He had been Army, draftee, one tour, back in the days when it was still largely segregated. He had been an officer’s “boy” in the parlance of the time. A troop designated to take care of a senior officer’s stuff, a full colonel in Remi’s case. His family had been “help” going back to the slavery days.
Five years ago his wife and youngest child had been killed by a loup garou. He was quite pleased to have the opportunity to be gentleman to a monster hunter.
He knew how to strip, clean and reassemble the 1911 and M14. The guy could practically spit-shine a 1911. He picked up the Uzi quick. We talked while cleaning weapons. He had a spare pair of white gloves and made notes from time to time. He mentioned he knew a sewing lady who could fix my vest right up. I mentioned I had a spare in my gear but it would have to be reconfigured. He mentioned that was his job. I admitted I needed a replacement for my assault ruck. He made a note. I had stuff in Seattle that still needed to be moved down. Note.
I finally just laid it out while he made notes. Gear room with way to clean all the gunk off the gear. Maybe a good way to hang it. I probably needed spares based on last full moon. Armory. Light one near the front, main one in a protected area, probably up. Primary magazine, fully prepared since it would include explosives, and secondaries. Probably ground floor. Weapons in every room. Weight room.
I’d like to have put in a shop. Not at the house, there wasn’t really a place. But I knew my days puttering in a machine shop were pretty much over. Not in New Orleans. In New Orleans I had two jobs. Kill monsters. Try to survive.
* * *
I had gotten my gear more or less fixed up and Honeybear more or less reloaded. I had a list of stuff I had to pick up at the office.
Pro-tip: keep an inventory list of your gear. Note things that are expended or damaged and get them replaced as quickly as feasible.
Remi had taken the inventory list to make a copy. I noted the things he could get, like more holy water, a backpack, and what I had to obtain, like more C4, detonators, det cord and silver ammo. Oh, yeah, and a couple of LAWs.
Who doesn’t carry light antitank weapons in their trunk? Honestly.
Pro-tip: If you’re in one of those areas where MCB is all about discreet, get a golf bag. Great for carrying long guns and rocket launchers covertly.
I mean, seriously, who actually plays golf? And if you want to pick one up, pick the pawn shop closest to a high end neighborhood. ’Cause when some long-suffering golf widow finally sues for divorce, the first thing she does is pawn his golf clubs.
If you do actually golf (seriously?) it’s also a great place to pick up high end clubs cheap.
End pro-tip.
Repacking my trunk was a pain. It was less of a pain with help. Remi had set a price which I considered reasonable. I’d have to check with my accountant to make sure I could afford it along with the cost of the new home. My accountant was still in Seattle. I asked him to ask Madam Courtney about an accountant as well as people to work on the house.
Repacked, fed, prepared, I won’t say recovered because I wasn’t, I headed to the office.
* * *
The meeting was in the team room. Trevor was still in a soft cast. Alvin was in a sling, left arm, from something the flesh golem had thrown at him that he’d managed to mostly dodge. I think it was a motorcycle. Shelbye had a bandage on her head. I was wearing the sling. I didn’t absolutely need it but it sure felt better than not. Bottom line, everybody was injured.
But Happy Face had arrived. I was making happy face.
Ray IV and Earl were here with Hoodoo Squad, catching up on our busy week.
“I’ll be damned,” Earl said, pacing up and down and flipping through receipts. As he’d finish one, he’d pass it to Ray. He wasn’t smoking for once. Trevor had quit and the building was non-smoking which suited me fine. Shelbye, Ben and Greg had to go outside. Well, used to have to in Greg’s case. Ben would be back. Hopefully.
“No kidding,” Ray said, flipping through the receipts. “And we were in Montana chasing one damned skin walker. Okay, I don’t even know what an Agaran is.”
“Yeah, I haven’t seen one of those in a while and only heard that name once,” Earl said. “I knew it as Títeres de Sombras. Shadow puppet. Agaran.”
“I’d have been killed just like Greg if I didn’t,” I said. Okay, probably not. I’d have dropped back and regrouped, gotten holy water, waited for back-up. Nah. I’d be dead as a stump. Or, rather, a zombie.
“It’s code 41638-B,” Earl said, making a note on the receipt. “Add Agaran, minor, extradimensional. PUFF adjuster will recognize it. These fricking werewolves piss me off. Not the new ones. They’re just…new. The ones that have been around for a while and are spreading the curse. I’m going to do something about those punks. How’s your relationship with MCB?”
“I was getting to that,” Trevor said, delicately. “We’ve got a great relationship and, Earl, I’d really like to keep it that way.”
“I won’t piss in their Cheerios. Especially since we need their help. We need to track these sons-of-bitches down. We need to know if they frequent certain bars to get in these fights. That’s police work. We don’t have the time or people to do that legwork. They’ll need to do it. But find a pattern and we’ll find the werewolves. And then we’ll deal with that situation.”
“Question?” I said. “Do we get PUFF for a live capture?”
“Yes,” Ray said. “Why?”
“One of the agents said something about turning them over to their scientific division,” I said. “Apparently they dissect them to see how they tick. Without anesthesia.”
“Yes, they do,” Earl said, frowning. “And tempting as it is, no, we’ll just put them down. Simpler. But we’ve got to find them first. You called in on these disappearances.”
“Basement boogie,” Shelbye supplied.
“The descriptions don’t match anything I’m aware of. Ray did some digging in the archives. Ray?”
“There have been similar instances in other times and countries, but nothing that seems exactly the same. Our archives don’t have anything that really matches.”
“I’ll call Oxford,” I said. “There may be something there.”
“Do that,” Earl said. “We’re here until y’all are fully recovered and we get more permanent hunters on your team. We’ve put out the word before and we’re putting it out again. There’s a lot of reasons that people don’t want to move. You get accustomed to your team and you don’t want to leave your team.”
“True that,” I said. “Unless you gotta.”
“True that,” Ray said, grinning. Earl showed no reaction, so apparently Ray hadn’t told him why I’d been eager for the transfer.
“People have homes, families,” Earl said. “I ain’t
gonna force the issue. Unfortunately the most flexible about moving tend to be the least experienced. Not a good thing in New Orleans, obviously. I’m twisting some arms to get good folks down here. Huge PUFF payments should help. We’re staying here for a spell, absent some major catastrophe elsewhere. At least through the next full moon. I’ve got business I have to do during that time, but the rest of my team’s here for the duration.”
“Happy to have them,” Trevor said.
“Wish we could put a loup garou on a leash,” I said. I don’t know why I said it.
“What do you mean?” Earl asked, his face hard.
“They’re seriously bad news,” I said. “I’d love to have been able to unleash a loup garou on some of those zombie herds.”
“We had that a couple of full moons ago,” Alvin said, grinning. “Loup garou got into a cemetery full of zombies. Jonathan and I pulled up, realized what was happening and just let the loup garou handle it. Then when it was finished, we finished off the loup garou.”
“You can’t manage a werewolf,” Earl said. “On the full moon they’re out of control. No way to handle them. You’d have to put it down like you did. Right call.”
“What about darts?” I asked. “Have one in a cage, maybe with a remote? Set the cage down, back off…”
“Drop it,” Ray said.
“But…” I wasn’t picking up on hints.
“I said, drop it, Chad,” Ray said. “We’re not going to try to use a werewolf on a full moon. It’s been tried. The results were not really good if you know what I mean. Drop. It. Chad.”
“Dropped.”
“Back to the point,” Earl said. He was looking…weird. His head was down and he had a hard expression. Not anger. As if he was trying not to express something else. “The point is that we’re not, really, that big of a company, and we’re spread over the whole country. And while New Orleans clearly needs reinforcements, probably two teams, minimum, we don’t have the people to do that. Regardless, no more solo bullshit. I don’t care how tough you boys think you are, you can only look in one direction at a time. Minimum of two, or you don’t go in.”
“We’ve got contracts to keep, Earl,” Trevor said. “And this city is—”
“Wise, alone, dead. Baldwin, alone, dead. MHI wins because we fight as a unit. You getting me, Trevor? Because if you ain’t, I’ll find a team lead who does.”
“We were adapting to circumstances,” I said, not liking Earl’s attitude. Trevor was a good boss. “It’s worked for me.”
“That’s a mighty compelling argument.” He nodded toward my sling.
“You do what you have to do. There’s lots of stories about you taking on monsters by yourself.”
“But you ain’t me, Hand.” Earl scowled and leaned forward in his chair. “Hotdog bullshit works like a charm until the day your luck runs out.” He turned to Trevor. “Until this damned freak show city returns to normal, everybody rides with a partner. One of your team who knows their way around, with one of mine.”
“Got it, Earl,” Trevor said.
“Good. Now let’s get back to figuring out how to staff this place, because apparently New Orleans opened the seventh seal or something.”
It was quiet for a minute. I raised my hand.
“Go, Hand.” Earl sighed. It was clear he needed a cigarette.
“Two things. One, I know someone who would make a great recruit. The bouncer who helped me out with a group of vamps. Two, we can advertise.”
“MCB would shit a brick,” Ray said.
“Truth Teller,” I said. “We’ll even be paying MCB for a change.”
“The what?” Earl asked.
“That is a truly bizarre suggestion,” Trevor said, laughing. “I like it.”
“Someone want to fill me in?” Ray asked.
“Better if you see it,” Trevor said and looked around. “Shelbye, I think there’s one from last week in my office?”
* * *
Some more of Earl’s team had joined us—specifically Milo Anderson—and they had split up the pages of the New Orleans Truth Teller and were passing them around.
“Who’s got page nine?” Milo asked, grinning from ear to ear. “Chad, that’s you, right? Japanese sword.”
“Made the front page,” I said. “Just aced out Ben.” I frowned at that. Ben always liked making the front page. I was sure he’d make it again. He’d be back.
“Monster Control Board allows this?” Ray asked, more perusing than reading. He handed his page to Milo and picked up another.
“MCB publishes it,” Trevor said. “Their local motto is the best way to tell a lie, is tell the truth, badly.”
“Reading this is making my head hurt,” Earl said.
“You jumped through the window?” Milo asked, crowing.
“And came back out holding a skull,” I said. “Thing is, we can recruit in there. There are plenty of people in New Orleans who have shot zombies, or bashed their heads in with axes. A few who have managed to at least tag loup garou. We’ll get quite a few crazies. We’ll also get people who aren’t. That’s what interviews are for.”
“They’ll still be green when they come from training,” Ray said, frowning. “New Orleans is not a place for green troops.”
“Send them somewhere else for a while. Then they’ll come back.”
“Natives will,” Trevor said. “Natives always come back to New Orleans. They can’t stay away. It will take some time for the pipeline to fill, but I’d say we’ll be able to fill it. And they’ll already be familiar with the town.”
“Half my time is spent looking at maps and asking for directions,” I said. “Damned canals in this town screw you up.”
“That…makes a certain amount of sense,” Ray said.
“I’m not just a pretty face,” I said.
“You’re not even a pretty face,” Milo quipped.
“Yes, I am, and you know it,” I said, grinning.
“Nope.” Milo shook his head.
“I’d like to add something,” Trevor said. “And some one, some ones, who aren’t really going to be active hunters but can handle positional defense and, most importantly, paperwork. I’m swamped. Just filling out all the PUFF paperwork is a nightmare. I need an office manager.”
“Got it. We’ll work on that, too,” Ray said, making a note.
“We need to meet with MCB, anyway,” Earl said. “Ray…”
“I’ll take him,” I said. “We’ll talk to Bob Higgins. He might be Hollywood Marine but once a Marine, always a Marine. Are we a go on advertising?”
“Yes,” Earl said. “Reluctantly.”
“We don’t want recruits coming here,” Trevor said. “We’ll need some place to do the interviews.”
“We’ll set up a temporary office,” Ray said. “Need to get that in place first.”
“I know just the real estate lady,” I said, smiling.
“How’s the house?” Trevor asked.
“Fan-fucking-tastic And I now have a gentleman as well.”
“Told you she was a wizard,” Trevor said, grinning.
“A what?” Milo asked.
“You got a butler?” Ray said. “Who’s got the big head?”
“I’m trying to picture Chad with a house. Like a grown up.”
“I may not live long in this job,” I said, “but I am now living in style. Trust the loas,” I added in a Jamaican accent.
“Loas? Are you nuts?” Milo asked. He knew a loa was a houdoun spirit.
“All blessings extend from God, Milo,” I said, gently. “A blessing is a blessing. No positive power can extend from evil.”
“Evil can be really convincing though, up until it eats your face,” Milo said.
“I’ll explain ‘trust the loas’ later. But, yeah, got a house. Great house. Fantastic house. I’d love to show it off while I’m still alive. Feel free to have the memorial service there.”
“Sic transit gloria mundi is all well and good,” Earl said. “
But that’s not a great attitude, Hand.”
“Did you see what the last few days were like?” I said. “I’m going to gather every possible rosebud. Eat, drink and be merry ’cause it’s only twenty-four days ’til the next full moon.”
CHAPTER 14
Lawyers Guns and Money
I took Ray Shackleford and Milo Anderson to meet with MCB. Milo didn’t drink but he liked bourbon chicken. Earl just really hated Feds.
We were happily eating Maurice’s chicken when Higgins sat down wearily at the bar.
“I hate the freaking lawyers,” he said as the waitress poured him a shot. It turned out her name was Melisent, and I still hadn’t got her number yet.
“Everybody hates lawyers, Bob.”
“‘This is apriori restraint in violation of the First Amendment!’ Yeah, it is. I nearly popped him just pour encourage l’autre but the paperwork is a nightmare. Instead I pointed out that we could get his bar license revoked and if he made waves we’d point out that he was clearly a nutcase which would destroy his career. Oh, and we already had pictures of him with an underage girl. Goodbye marriage and it would kick in the rider on his pre-nup and he’d end up penniless, disbarred and in prison for pedophilia. We knew the judges to do it. The fix is in, get over it. He shut the hell up.”
“I wish it could be a different way,” I said, remember what Castro had told me the other night.
“So do I,” Higgins said, taking another shot. “Three of the people from that vamp container you guys found, we just did the commitment paperwork. They’re about to spend a very long period of time in confinement being repeatedly told that vampires aren’t real. After having spent a very long period of time in confinement being snacked on by same. It’s wrong. It’s awful. It’s horrible. It fucking sucks ass. It’s necessary.”
“Are you sure?” Milo said, angrily. “Is it really necessary?”
“I’ve had the full brief,” I said. “New Orleans is what happens when everyone starts accessing hoodoo. You start fucking around with this shit and you go bat-shit. There’s more to it than that. But, yeah, sorry buddy but I got to agree. Could it be handled better? I’m not sure. We really need a central place to send people like that where the doctors, experienced with the supernatural, say ‘Yes, vampires do exist. And giant spiders and all the rest. But you can’t talk about it outside of here.’ Until then? We hold the line.”
